Kind of Lighter and Brighter Somehow
by J. Charelle
Summary: Kurt Hummel is the rising star in entertainment, and average teen Blaine Anderson is taken, to say the least. To Blaine, Kurt Hummel is pure talent, perfection at it's best. To Kurt, Blaine is just another fan. Until a chance meeting changes everything.
1. Blaine, Fanboy Extraordinaire

**Disclaimer: Glee isn't mine, no matter how much I kind of wish it was. **

**First Glee fic for me, with an actual plot in the works! It's based off the AU floating around tumblr, where Kurt has gotten famous and Blaine is a big fan. **

**I can't pin down exactly what will be spoiled, except character names all the way up to Big Brother. If I like an idea from Canon, it may or may not be modified to fit my 'verse. Also I make no smut guarantees, since I don't really know how to write it…we shall see, though.**

**Special thanks to tumblr user minorchord for reading this as I go, and equal-melody for listening to ideas for this chapter. Also special mention for the title; it's from musical composers Kooman and Dimond.**

**TL;DR There may be spoilers (mostly character, maybe plot), smut given maybe by request, so read and review (please?)**

McKinley's crowded hallways were always dangerous, and today they were especially bad. Kids ran up and down the corridors, slamming lockers and chasing each other out into the late spring afternoon. It was the last day of classes after all, and everyone was anxious to start the break.

Blaine Anderson was just as excited, but he was not one of the students dodging the crowds. He was at his locker, haphazardly throwing the last of his supplies into his satchel. The sooner he finished here, the sooner he got home; and the sooner he got home, the faster he and Rachel could start off on their road trip. They had gotten permission from both sets of parents to travel to New York for the first month of break, and they were both beyond ready to get there. Rachel wanted to sit rush for every musical they could, but Blaine had only one goal:

Kurt Hummel was doing a concert at Madison Square Gardens, and Blaine was going to get in if it was the last thing he did.

He was pretty sure Rachel knew the real reason he finally agreed to the trip; she was the closest thing he had to a best friend in Lima, after all. Getting to finally see Kurt in concert was going to be the best moment of his life. Kurt's music was amazing, and the videos were some of the most heavily talked about on the internet. It also didn't hurt that Kurt was _beautiful_. Nobody quite knew what to make of Kurt; one minute he was this adorable boy walking the red carpet with his frazzled-looking, red-headed publicist, the next he was onstage oozing sex. Blaine just wanted to see him in person once. That was all. And this was Blaine's time. He could feel it.

Blaine looked at his locker door and sighed wistfully at the picture on it. Kurt, wrapped in a trench coat and looking absolutely fabulous, was Blaine's main decoration, along with "Courage" that Blaine had pieced together from ads Kurt had posed for. It was the last thing Blaine took down every semester, because it was his reminder to hang on. Things had to get better; they had for Kurt, after all.

Putting it mildly, Blaine had a bit of a crush on one Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Which was fine. If there was one thing Blaine was, it was perfectly comfortable with being gay. He could handle the looks, the name calling, and the slushy's. Because there were people like Kurt, with his higher voice and off-the-wall fashion choices and raging success, Blaine knew he was going to be okay.

"Blaine? Blaine!" Blaine snapped out of his trance, looking over his shoulder at one very impatient Rachel Berry.

"I've been trying to get your attention for almost a minute! Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Just a second. I've just got to take down this last thing…"

"Well hurry! New York is calling!"

Blaine rolled his eyes and fished his keys out of his pocket.

"Since you're so impatient, here. You can go start the wagon or something."

Rachel huffed good-naturedly as she took the keys and watched him pull down the picture and stick it carefully in a folder.

"I still don't know what you see in that picture." she said appraisingly, and Blaine bristled. Was she about to start in on Kurt again? Because he'd have to show her—

His phone went off in his pocket, distracting him. A message from twitter; could it be?

_KurtElizabeth: Wow! Thanks so much for all the wishes, you guys! It's been great so far. And now, for the BDay SURPRISE I promised :) /522319…_

Blaine must have been grinning like an idiot, because Rachel rolled her eyes and jangled the keys.

"Let me guess: Kurt."

Blaine merely nodded, eyes glued to his screen as the picture loaded. It was Kurt, of course, but he was wearing some kind of period costume from the 1900s. And holding a bat. And he was dirty. And rugged looking. Blaine didn't know Kurt could look that serious, but there he was, all sex and unf wrapped up and sitting on top of a title: "Quarter Past".

This was a movie poster. Kurt had actually filmed a movie. Kurt Hummel was going to be in a movie and Blaine hadn't seen anything other than rumors online, how was that possible?

Another tweet appeared just as quickly as the first, sending Blaine into a spiral: _KurtElizabeth: It's a little different than what I imagined for my first time out… but maybe there's something else in the works? ;)_

Blaine's thoughts kicked into overdrive. What was Kurt talking about? When was the last time anyone had actually _seen_ Kurt out and about? There were constant talks of his tour being in the final stages of production, and leaked versions of his new single all over the internet, but Blaine hadn't seen any recent photos of Kurt for several weeks. How did anyone as famous as Kurt manage to film an entire movie without their fans seeing one still?

"Maybe I just missed it on my dash," Blaine muttered to himself, hastily tapping out a tweet of his own (_oh_blainers: God Bless KurtElizabeth is going to kill me i'm SO EXCITED FOR THIS ALREADY._) before slamming his locker shut. Rachel followed him as he headed for the main doors, taking his phone as he shoved it in her face.

"I mean, I would have seen something, you know? He's just been so quiet lately; nobody can get a good idea of where he is. Who even gave him the right? I can't be surprised by this kind of thing, I can't handle it…"

"Blaine, this is getting ridiculous." Rachel was nosing through his twitter feed. "You mentioned him in a tweet again?"

"Yes, again, Rachel. One of these days he's going to notice me. He will."

"You can't know that. Blaine, you're getting obsessed. He's a celebrity; he'll probably never even know you exist. If he replied to you, he'd forget as soon as he hit his send button."

Blaine took his phone and keys back as they neared his car. Glancing at the picture through the outdoor glare, he opened the doors and set his satchel in the backseat. Sighing, he settled into the driver's seat and propped his head on the steering wheel.

"But…he's just so perfect." He moaned.

Rachel hummed sympathetically before reaching over and starting the engine.

"I know he is, Blaine. Now, let's go get our things so we can go to New York and forget all about the perfect man and his movie."

She was teasing him, Blaine knew, so he decided to play along.

"And his birthday," Blaine sighed, sitting up and putting the car into reverse. "And his eyes, and his singing, and his talent, and his everything."

Blaine knew Rachel hated it when he went on and on about Kurt, but Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was Blaine's favorite person, hands down.

And Blaine would do whatever it took to meet him once they got to New York.


	2. Kurt, Henpecked

Kurt Hummel was tired.

It was his birthday, for goodness' sake. Wasn't he allowed one day off? It wasn't everyday a person turned eighteen, after all. But there he was, holed up in the dance studio with his choreographer and dancers, running the opening for the tour with no rehearsal end time in sight. They'd been at it since ten that morning, with only a couple of water breaks to keep within union rules. Kurt himself had been awake since 5, working through a Pilates routine with Holly, going back over the tracks for the new album with Dustin and his people, and hashing out the lyrics to another song while making the crosstown trip to the studio, where he's been switching his hips and getting hoisted into the air for what feels like an eternity.

And the worst part was that he STILL wasn't finished. Terri wanted to have him read over some scripts and show pitches at seven, and then Emma and he had to go over what was and wasn't appropriate etiquette for the awards season (even though the first show was in August. AUGUST.) Then Roz would finally have time to explain his agenda for the next couple of days; after the weekend and its rehearsals, there were Talk show sessions to film, appearances to make, and gatherings to attend before Kurt had a few hours to himself-unless something ELSE came up.

Everybody seemed to want a piece of Kurt's time since he signed with Dustin and his record company. It was nice, being wanted all the time; much better than his days growing up in Lima. Being an outcast wasn't an option, especially once Terri had managed to get Kurt into the right hands at exactly the right time. Executives from companies Kurt had never dared dream of meeting wanted him to fly to LA and talk movie deals. His favorite designers were sending their lackeys through the gauntlet that was Kurt's personal style team in the hopes that Kurt would wear their designs whenever he stepped out of his apartment. This company wants permission to use Kurt's song in an advertisement; they know it would be just perfect for whatever it is they are selling; that nonprofit would simply LOVE to have Kurt as a celebrity spokesperson, and would Kurt kindly think about doing this for them?

Of course, not everything went through Kurt. He had his lawyers, the agency's people, and his manager filtering through the worst of it. Emma was there for when Kurt had to say things to interviewers, and Roz helped him keep his schedule straight and reminded him to call his father a couple of times a week. Kurt's life was very well handled, considering how much he was doing. There was just one thing The Powers That Be seemed to be forgetting about:

Kurt Hummel had no time to start relationships. As of that very morning, his only romantic feelings had been for celebrities, and those feelings disappeared very quickly after meeting them all in person. There was a big difference between famous people when they were on and off camera, as Kurt had learned during his climb to the top. He had figured as much after Terri decided he needed a publicist and had hired Emma to help police his interactions, but still.

Kurt was a teenage boy. And he had certain...urges. They weren't BAD, exactly. He just didn't have time to sample the field, and not for trying on Kurt's part. He would flirt with the interns when Terri and Emma weren't paying attention or goof around with his dancers, but other than that Kurt didn't have any social interests, and Emma was always quick to talk Kurt out of thinking about relationships.

"Think of your reputation." She always tells him. "You don't want to wind up on the cover of some tabloid hugged up on some hooker, do you? What would that do to your fan base?"

Kurt personally thought a scandal would grow his fame exponentially, but he knew that's not what Emma means, so he doesn't say anything and keeps his hands to himself. He could be the good boy with golden pipes for a little while longer.

Anyway.

Kurt was busy. There wasn't time to get involved. There hadn't really been time for him to breathe, let alone really _look_ at people. Terri was a powerhouse of a manager, and she knew how to keep her clients occupied; since Kurt was her biggest name, he got the most jobs.

Which is why Kurt was spending his eighteenth birthday with the genius choreographer Sue Sylvester and twelve featured dancers, grabbing water breaks every couple of hours. It wasn't horrible, just not ideal.

At least, it was until Terri opened the studio door and ground rehearsal to a halt.

"Emma and I need Kurt for a minute."

"Well you're going to have to wait Blondie, because if he and these miserable excuses for dancers hit this set with less grace than a paraplegic on a tightrope they're doing it again."

One of the dancers (Brittany, Kurt thinks her name is) lets out a moan and settles onto her haunches to stretch her legs, standing quickly when Sue shoots her a look that could freeze hell.

"And if I have to wait any longer than I already have, we may miss prime advertising opportunities. If we miss those, the tour could flop. And so help me if that tour flops I will see to it you never work in this town again." Terri shot back.

"Then I'll move." Sue turned to face Terri, crossing her arms menacingly. "You think I got anywhere by listening when people threaten me? I don't think so. Now, I'm here trying to make Porcelain a hit, and I can't do that when your teased out mane is causing a glare in the fluorescent lighting. Now you can either get the hell out of my studio, or I can tell Hugo there-"here she threw a thumb at Anton, one of the beefier dancers, "-to haul you out by your perky little-"

"Okay, Sue! While I hate to interrupt what was sure to be a very informational tirade on the wonders of the female anatomy, we only need to see Kurt for a couple of minutes."

Emma entered the studio quickly, cutting between Terri and Sue and brandishing a portfolio like a shield. Roz followed behind her, heels clacking loudly on the wooden floor and stopping beside Kurt, leaving Emma alone as the buffer between two of the major forces in Kurt's life: manager-cum-guardian ad litem Terri Del Monico, and choreographer extraordinaire Sue Sylvester. Sue sized up the slightly trembling woman before scoffing and rearing back for another scathing remark.

"Plus you've had them for five hours, which is longer than anyone had planned for anyway." Roz continued for the now cowed Emma, double checking a notebook she was clinging to. She glanced quickly at Kurt. "If I hadn't had to climb in through the fire escape after the security code was changed again, I would have been here at two like I planned. Why didn't you send somebody to look for a woman, boy?"

Kurt shrugged and took another swig from his water bottle. It didn't matter to him, really. He just wanted a free day. He wasn't allowed to plan anything exciting for the night, so he figured he was allowed to inconvenience a couple people today of all days.

Terri swore under her breath, putting together pieces of Kurt's schedule in her head. "Jesus, you've had them since ten? When did you expect them to eat?"

"Food is for the weak." Sue responded, turning her back on the crowd of suited women to face the dancers. "Anybody here disagree?"

"Actually, I do." Kurt said, crossing his arms. "There's too much going today for me not to get a lunch break." Maybe if Kurt dropped enough hints, they would figure out that he didn't actually want to do anything work related today. But they probably wouldn't take the hint. His team was nothing if not determined to see him succeed.

Sue shot Kurt a glare he couldn't interpret before rounding on the dancers. "I guess we're finished for now, then. Everybody's free to go. I want the second and third tier dancers back in this studio by five to run the ballad and everyone here at six thirty for a full run-down."

They all moved for their things, heaving sighs of relief for the break. Kurt went to grab his stuff as well, accepting grateful pats on the back from the guys and quiet calls of "Happy birthday!" from the girls.

Jeremiah sat down next to him as he changed his shoes. Kurt smiled at him, doing his best to keep it light. He was never sure what Jeremiah wanted, though he had proven to be a good flirt.

"I don't know how you do it, man." Jeremiah said as he toweled himself off.

"Do what?"

"Handle everything you've got going on with those four constantly at you. We have a hard enough time with Sue, and you've got her, Roz, Emma, and the Del Monster everywhere you go."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. "It is more than I asked for, yeah. But they mean well."

"Sure. Listen, a bunch of us are planning on going out tonight, if Sue doesn't kill us at rehearsal. If they don't have you doing anything, maybe you can find a way out there?" Jeremiah looked out of the corner of his eyes as he put on his street shoes; and was that a small smile Kurt could see?

"Well, if everybody's going, I'll have to see what I can do, won't I?" Kurt replied, smirking as he picked up his dance bag. "For the sake of professionalism and all."

"Professionalism. Of course." Jeremiah was genuinely smiling, eyes sparkling. Kurt gave him an appraising look. He _was_ rather good looking. And if Kurt could manage to get some time off tonight, maybe they would get a chance to talk; Jeremiah was one of the nicer dancers in Kurt's little troupe, after all…

Suddenly, Jeremiah's face fell. His eyes darkened and he backed away from Kurt so quickly Kurt wondered for half a second if he had suddenly broken out in hives or something. But then he heard the not so quiet throat clearing behind him. Terri.

How much had she seen? Probably a bit, since the studio was pretty much cleared out. Maybe she wouldn't think anything of it; Emma _had_ told him to play nice with the dancers. But it didn't matter. Terri would make of it what she wished; more likely than not she would ignore it in favor of whatever project she had in mind.

"See you around, Kurt." Jeremiah muttered. He gathered his things and hustled out of the studio, Kurt looking on in mild disappointment.

"Well, that was awfully nice of him." Terri said airily. "But we've got things to take care of."

"Somewhere else, Honey Badger." Sue called from the door. "My studio's not for your little schemes."

Terri huffed and beckoned for Kurt to follow her out the door as she pulled something up on her phone. Kurt followed slowly, fiddling with his own phone as he went.

Terri rounded on him once they were in the hallway.

"We got the movie posters today."

Kurt slumped against the wall and cheered sarcastically. What did it matter? He hadn't wanted to film that movie from the very beginning. If there was one thing Kurt hated, it was being dirty. And of course the one role Terri made him take required a lot of dirt. And running around after a baseball. If Terri was expecting him to get excited over the poster, she was sadly mistaken.

"…and now we need you to leak one of them."

"Excuse me?" Kurt came back to the conversation. "You get me in a movie, don't let anything about it get out, and _now_ you want me to spread around photos?"

"Exactly," Emma said, pulling a poster from her portfolio and putting it in Kurt's face. There he was, filthy and brandishing a baseball bat, _Quarter Past_ sitting squat across the bottom. Kurt grimaced and looked away, not wanting to be reminded of the two months spent in the middle of nowhere without a single device to keep in touch with the outside world. "We're thinking that having you release pictures out of the blue will cause more of an interest than constant advertising." She finished.

"So what, you all want me to snap a picture and start up the Facebook group?"

"Don't be ridiculous. There're already people on designing the webpages." Terri answered.

"All we want you to do is tweet the poster." Emma clarified, waving it around so the laminate caught Kurt's eye.

"So this is the special surprise you've been making me mention all month." Kurt finally managed to put the pieces together. What better way to make sure people were paying attention to an announcement than by holding a secret just out of their reach?

Emma nodded, red hair bouncing almost comically. "Just keep the tweet happy and mention the surprise, and tweet a photo of it. Ok?"

Kurt pulled out his phone and snapped a couple of pictures of the poster. After checking with Emma to get the one she and Terri liked the best, he ran through his twitter feed as they turned to exit the building. At least people on twitter (and his dance crew) remembered today was his birthday. There were mentions everywhere; lyric re-tweets and a trending topic (_Happy Bday KHummel_). That made him smile happily as he typed out his tweet: _Wow! Thanks so much for all the wishes, you guys! It's been great so far._ (Well, it hadn't really been, but they didn't need to know that. What else was he supposed to do? Oh right, the poster.) _And now, for the BDay SURPRISE I promised :)_

He uploaded the photo, linked it to the tweet, and pressed SEND. As they got into the car, he decided to drop a couple hints for the producers he knew followed him; he didn't want them thinking this was the _only_ type of movie he was interested in. Maybe if enough of them sent in scripts without gritty, athletics-and-dirt heavy plotlines, Terri would let him do one of those…

Now in the car, Kurt tapped out another tweet: _It's a little different than what I imagined for my first time out… but maybe there's something else in the works? ;)_

Let Emma, Terri, and his fans make of _that_ what they would.


	3. The Teenager

**Happy Klaine week, everybody! I had no idea what that actually was until Sunday night when the tumblrs I follow in Europe started passing around their baby!Klaine for Monday (oops) and since Tuesday was AU Klaine (I tried to get it done for Tuesday, honest…), I figured it's time for an update! ****And, you know, I really don't want to do this homework…**

**First off, can I just say **_**whoa**_**. For a person who's next to invisible online, having anybody read what I've written is beyond amazing. Thanks for the feedback, and the alerts and everything—I appreciate it so much! I'm going to aim really hard for regular updates, but I can't make guarantees; I'm taking 18 hours (and a lot of those classes have a **_**ton**_** of extra work required) and I have a bunch of scholarship obligations. **

**Also, I can't remember if I disclaimed, so here that is: I don't own Glee, which is why the characters have been shifted around into an AU, and is also why the winter finale wasn't super happy fun time for all the pairings. Any recognizable names or events aren't mine, although I lay claim to a couple of OCs that'll be mixed in eventually. And I did do a bit of looking into NYC (thank goodness for Google street view!), but took some liberties when I wasn't necessarily bothered with the details. I did want to get one particular detail right, and I used this video as basis: **..ogv**)**

_**Aaaaand **_**I'm introducing a character name in this chapter who can be considered a spoiler for 3x15 (if you're one of those people who try to avoid those.) Just a warning.**

* * *

><p>Ten hours hadn't seemed like that long of a car trip. After all, Blaine and his family had gone much farther distances when he was younger; twenty-hour treks to Houston for medical conferences, thirteen to Minneapolis for art exhibitions.<p>

But those trips had been before Blaine was able to drive. They also didn't have the singular experience of Rachel belting show tune after show tune in the passenger seat. Blaine loved Rachel a lot, but there was only so much _Yentl_ Blaine was willing to listen to before he was ready to snap. It had been four hours and Rachel was _still_ pulling Streisand playlists from her iPod, which shouldn't have been surprising given Barbara's history, but still. They had listened to Barbara for the first half of the trip the day before, up until evening set in and they had to stop for the night at a motel so they didn't worry their parents. Then there was Barbara in the shower. And Barbara as an alarm tone. And Barbara during Rachel's wake-up routine. It was time for something different— dub step, Gregorian chanting, choruses of screaming cats—something, _anything_ other than _another_ show tune or power ballad. Blaine loved a good showstopper as much as the next guy, but Rachel's fanaticism was a little ridiculous.

Actually, her obsession with Barbara was a lot like Blaine's with Kurt, except Barbara had been alive for a lot longer. Blaine took a second to ponder that, tuning out _Woman in Love_ for a few blissful moments. Meeting someone at McKinley who followed a celebrity very closely was probably a reason Blaine took to Rachel almost instantly when he moved to Lima two years ago. That and the fact that she dragged him to the choir room to audition for Glee club once she heard him singing to himself in the library. It had been the beginning of a boisterous, if not somewhat dysfunctional, friendship between the two of them. Rachel had her male lead that could keep up with her vocally, and Blaine had a place to belong, even if a public school glee club wasn't quite the place Blaine's parents wanted him to belong. They actually hadn't wanted Blaine to go back to public school after his dad was hired as Lima General's C.E.O., but Blaine wasn't too keen on being enrolled at the private school his parents had in mind (and Dalton wasn't too keen on having another Anderson boy grace their hallowed halls anytime soon; reputations preceded one Blaine Frederick Anderson that no amount of exemplary behavior on Blaine's part would be able to completely erase.)

It was a good thing Blaine had met Rachel. She helped him with his confidence in being himself, and her dads were Blaine's role models. He wanted to find someone who could be the Leroy to his Hiram someday, and he knew his chances for finding that one person were excellent in New York, which was rapidly approaching in the windshield.

Rachel gave another squeal of excitement and sang a little louder. Blaine squared his shoulders and prepared for the final push into the Big Apple.

* * *

><p>There it was. The Holland Tunnel. Roughly 9,000 feet and Blaine and Rachel would officially be in the city they had dreamed about for years.<p>

The sign at the tool booth was intimidating, big block letters atop towering columns large enough to let trucks through. The lanes were loaded down with traffic; cars, trucks, vans, the occasional tour bus. It seemed ridiculously crowded for a Saturday afternoon, but Blaine didn't know anything about traffic here. He also didn't know how they were going to make it to the car park, what with Rachel practically bursting out of her skin, gawking at the skyscrapers and chattering, her phone with the directions to the car park laying forgotten on her lap.

"Focus, Rach. You won't be able to unleash yourself on New York if we never make it to the Garage." Blaine readjusted his hands on the steering wheel, maneuvering carefully as the road began its slow descent underground.

"But it's going to be so amazing when we get there! I think the first thing we should do, after finding our hotel of course, is go straight to Times Square and see what's playing this week. Or maybe we should go straight to the street performers and see what they can do as far as talent—"

"Or we could check in like we promised we would." Blaine interrupted. Rachel was famous for jumping the gun when she got excited, which she was definitely was at the moment. Hopefully Blaine's reminder about their promises to their parents would be enough to stop her chattering about plans; it was hard enough trying to maneuver the narrow lanes, although the promise that nobody was going to cut him off was a big stress reliever.

That didn't stop the next three and a half minutes from being the longest Blaine had ever encountered. The tunnel was the last thing separating him from thirty days with his best friend in the city they'd only dreamed about. . It was the moderately lit, tile-covered space-block between Blaine and Madison Square Gardens. It separated Blaine from Kurt Hummel's stomping ground. The stores Kurt shopped at. His apartment. His recording studio and all the places he rehearsed and had the potential to _be_ at any given time.

Not that Blaine was worried about any of those things. Definitely not.

He sat impatiently, tapping out an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel while he kept an eye on the traffic, which seemed a lot more likely to stomp the brakes than he'd seen for most of the trip. They sat, Rachel leaning forward until she was practically laying on the dashboard, watching the walls in front of them and trembling with so much energy Blaine was surprised she hadn't exploded yet. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, watching for the shift of light from the fluorescent to natural, until they drove out and came face to face with—

"New York City," They breathed together, glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes and grinning like idiots.

* * *

><p>The worst part of New York was the traffic.<p>

Cars were everywhere, lining the streets in front of brownstones and apartments, and clogging the streets in their hustle to hurry up and wait at the next intersection. At least the car park was far enough away from the center of the city that pedestrians weren't a terrible problem. There was the occasional group of kids wandering the sidewalks, but other than that, it was pretty clear. Apart from the many cars headed in the same direction Blaine and Rachel were.

The best part of New York traffic was that cars sat still long enough for Blaine to fire off a couple of text messages. At the next standstill, Blaine pulled his phone from the console so see that he already had messages.

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:22pm]:** _where are you, tiny dancer?_

Blaine bristled as he typed his reply. He wasn't _that _tiny anymore.

**Blainers [3:34pm]: **_On white street. There soon, loverboy._

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:34pm]:**_ k._

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:35pm] **_wait, is the shrill one driving?_

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:35pm]**_ are we gonna have to have a talk blainers?_

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:37pm]**_ BLAINE!_

**Blainers [3:40pm]:**_ nope. Gridlocked. I think someone hit a bike messenger there are packages *everywhere*_

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:40pm]:**_ well shit._

**Blainers [3:41pm**_**]:**__ I was kidding. But we'll be there as soon as we can. Listen for Rachel; she's gonna start singing at pedestrians here soon I can feel it._

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:42]:**_ fantastic. Waiting with baited breath._

**Sparky McFlashpants [3:42]:**_and earplugs._

**Blainers [3:43]:**_ good man._

Blaine slid his phone back into the console and pulled Rachel back from her window, where she was singing snippets of "One Short Day" at a group of (very confused) dog walkers.

"We're here for a month, not a day Rachel. Plus New York's not all green. Is there another one you can sing?"

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. "I was looking for a welcoming song full of promise and potential."

"But don't things go to Hell in a handbasket for Elphaba and Galinda in Oz?" He smirked good naturedly, looking for some kind of telltale sign for the car park. He _thought_ they were on the right block, but then again, he wasn't sure…Rachel opened her mouth to squawk something about Blaine's 'missing the true point of the song', which he intercepted as he glanced anxiously out his window at the buildings around them.

"Anyway, I'm sure the message would have gotten across, if the Pomeranians had actually understood English. Could you keep an eye out for the garage? I don't know which side of the street it's on."

Rachel pointed over the dashboard "I could, or we could just look for the flashy banner."

Flashy banner? Blaine followed Rachel's finger, brows rising in mortification.

"I'm going to kill him."

There, leaning against a light pole, was a very large, very bright red poster with photos of Blaine during almost every single one of his awkward years—the trip to the coast when he was two and decided it would be fun to take off his swim trunks and streak the beach; Halloween the autumn before they moved to Lima when Blaine decided to dress like Jimi Hendrix; countless photos full of missing teeth, unruly curls, and unfortunate glasses. At the top, "Welcome to the Big Apple, Little Blainers!" blazed in metallic paint. And holding the poster was the man responsible for the majority of the photos of the poster, grinning cockily as Blaine turned into the car park. His threw his head back and laughed as Blaine, scowling, shot him the bird when they rode past.

Cooper Anderson was nothing if not a good sport. Either that or a terrible prankster, Blaine had always figured. For all that he was almost nine years older than Blaine, he had the energy of a five-year-old and the joke repertoire of a third grader. Blaine wasn't surprised Coop had made a stupid welcome poster, in fact, he almost appreciated it. Almost.

But if there were any more short jokes directed at Blaine in the next hour or so he would take back most of the nice things he had thought about his brother since he agreed to be their contact during their trip.

Cooper was waiting for them at the edge of the sidewalk once they pulled their bags from the back of the wagon, self-assured smile still in place. He held out his arms to Blaine, but instead of going in for a hug, Blaine pushed him lightly in the chest.

"Did you have to find the baby pictures, Coop?"

"Of course. It's in the job description: 'entertaining your little brother? Embarrass the hell out of him, especially if you live in a major city.' Now get over here and hug me."

Blaine rolled his eyes before giving Cooper a tight hug, forgetting about the gel in his hair for long enough that Cooper began to squirm.

"Jesus, Blaine. There's enough gel in there to make you stick to my shirt." He pulled away, appraising Blaine from head to toe. "I would have said you'd stick to my chin, but you still aren't tall enough to reach up there."

"And the moment's over. Come on Rachel, we'll find the hostel on our own." Rachel looked confused. Blaine was turning to leave, but he had the biggest grin on his face. "We'll just have to tell your dads we couldn't see Cooper over the heads of the tall people in the crowds or something."

"Blainers, come on. I was _kidding_."

"I know. Which is why I was walking to the subway station I saw over here."

"Blaine?"

"Yes Rachel?"

"I'm pretty sure the subway stop is back the other way."

"And I'm pretty sure there's another stop down here somewhere." Blaine stopped, looking up and down the street bemusedly.

"Technically, you're both right," Cooper conceded, "but there's another stop a couple blocks over that'll take us more where we want to go; and you really don't want to get on the trains with your suitcases. How about we flag down a taxi instead?"

* * *

><p>Blaine was certain he and Rachel were going to get hopelessly lost in New York without Cooper there to show them the ropes. They had managed the taxi ride fine, cruising through the outskirts of Chinatown and into the East Village. Between the three of them they managed to find the youth hostel where they had reservations; they took a second to stow luggage before heading back out to find a restaurant. As they continued wandering the streets, Blaine kept getting turned around, distracted by a car horn or a random person calling to a friend down the street. It was frustrating. The city was so vibrant during the afternoons; Blaine wondered if he would be able to survive nights in the city.<p>

Rachel was in her element, talking with Cooper about landmarks and plays she wanted to see, places she wanted to get into, and people she wanted desperately to meet. Blaine let her talk at his brother, who kept giving him dirty looks; He had been together with Rachel for nearly twenty-four hours—it was good that she was talking with other people.

After what felt like miles, Cooper finally settled on a quiet looking bistro, leading the teenagers inside and taking his cues from the waiters scattered around the dining floor.

"Looks like you two did a good job finding places to stay," Cooper said over desert.

"It wasn't too hard; there are a lot of places around here." Blaine countered.

"Yeah, I'm sorry you guys can't just stay with me. It's just that the place is already so small with me, Adam, and Donovan…"

"Cooper we completely understand." Rachel reached out to pat his hand consolingly. "Struggling artists have a hard enough time taking care of themselves. I would feel bad if I had to stay with you for the whole trip. And besides, Blaine and I get to try out living on our own for a while."

"Not quite." Cooper looked up and held out a finger. "Both sets of parentals set out some rules. And I'm not about to catch anybody's grief for not giving you the rundown as soon as I had the chance."

Blaine sighed tiredly. "We know them already, Coop."

"Well, I'm telling you anyway. Now, mom, dad, and the misters Berry said you all have to check in with me every day. I'm gonna hold you to that, but it doesn't have to be a face-to-face every day because I'm not going to want to see you because of different reasons. "

"Reasons like Moira." Blaine smirked. Cooper had been going on about his latest girlfriend for months; it only made sense that she would stay…nearby…sometimes.

"Never mind about her. You can call or text with a general plan, and if you really want to meet we can over lunch when I'm not working or something. Every day. Got it?" they nodded.

"I'm not gonna set a curfew. You're here to have a good time, and who am I to stop you? But if you're going to be out way late, text me or something—and if mom or dad ask, tell them I told you 1am.

"And then the common sense rules. No talking to awesome and complete strangers, don't go anywhere alone, and if a strange person offers you candy or something, run screaming in the opposite direction. Common sense is the main thing. If mom and the dads trust you to run around New York with _me_ as a supervisor, they must know you can make smart choices."

_Mom and Dad especially_, Blaine thought. They had to have known half the things Blaine got up to between the time he could understand what people were saying and the year Cooper left for college were Cooper's fault. Of course, he _had_ learned to never trust Coop ideas that started or ended with "what's the worst that could happen?" so Blaine figured Cooper was right, at least this time.

"But other than that stuff, the city is your oyster, or some shit like that." Cooper took a sip of his coffee, watching the two of them carefully. Rachel still looked ridiculously excited, as was Blaine, but he was having a hard time showing it because he was _tired_. The hours in the car were finally catching up to him, and the dinner sitting in his stomach wasn't helping things, either. Blaine reached for his wallet to pay for his meal, but Cooper stopped him.

"I got it this time. You two get out of here. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He waved them away. It was all Blaine could do to follow Rachel's thanks, give Cooper an awkward one-armed hug, and follow his friend out into the crowded street.

"Rachel, I know you probably have about a million and a half things you want to do tonight, but if I don't get back to the hostel soon you're going to be dragging around a lot of dead weight." Blaine figured it was best to get his thoughts out there before she could get moving on the agenda she had no doubt been dreaming up all during dinner. "I mean, you can go out if you want to, but I can't."

"But it won't be any fun without you," she pouted, pulling out her best pleading eyes.

"It's really not a good idea, Rach."

She huffed, momentarily put out by the change in events. "Fine. But we're waking up extra early in the morning to make up for it."

That was fine with Blaine. Sleep was the most important thing right then.

Finding the hostel was a lot easier than Blaine had been anticipating; Rachel took to the streets like she was born to do it, and she probably was. They didn't get turned around once, and for that Blaine was very _very_ thankful. The cool air inside the hostel was a welcome change from the humidity that had been plaguing the city all day, but the best thing about the hostel was most definitely Blaine's bed.

He sank into it and was asleep instantly, lulled by the quiet drone of Barbara as Rachel brushed her teeth in the tiny bathroom.

* * *

><p><strong>Oop, that was kind of long. But I'm thinking there's one more chapter of exposition stuff left before things really get going. Maybe. Could be a little sooner, depending on what direction things take while I'm typing…<strong>


	4. Coffee Break, Part I

**Hello there! Hope this update is happening quickly enough for you; it was a little easier this week because of being on Spring Break. Some people go off to beaches and act like idiots; I go home, blog, cry about the hiatus (which would totally be over with by now if I owned Glee [super sneaky disclaimer]), and write fic…c'est la vie…**

**I'm thinking this is going to be at least 16 chapters and either an epilogue or a sequel, depending on how well I stick to the plot I hammered out a couple nights ago. Hope you can keep with me for that long!**

**Lastly, and actually related to this chapter: gonna come right out and say that I know for a fact that protocol for rushing at the Gershwin is wrong in this chapter. I looked it up; the actual way they do it doesn't fit my needs; I changed it. So don't try doing what Blaine and Rachel do, because you will be laughed at.**

**TL;DR: Hi, here's a new chapter—we're maybe a quarter of the way done, don't own Glee, don't show up to the Gershwin Theatre at 3am to rush.**

It was only a matter of time, really. Rachel was incredibly headstrong when her heart was set on something, and intentionally keeping her from the bright lights of the world-renowned stages on Broadway was no easy feat. Blaine felt he deserved a metal of some kind; an award in persuasion and distraction for rescuing the security details of Broadway stars from Rachel Berry, who was determined to ask _somebody_ important _something_ about how they reached the top. Blaine didn't remember what he had told Rachel, but she allowed him to drag her through the Southern portion of New York, bargaining for clothing and snapping silly pictures in museums and on street corners from sunup until long after the sun went down. It had been two days, Blaine was nearly out of things to do, and like a shark tasting blood on the water, Rachel was moving in on commandeering the schedule.

She made her first advance at breakfast Tuesday morning, nonchalantly scrolling across something on her laptop screen while Blaine spread sugar on his grapefruit.

"What's the plan for today?" She bit into a muffin she picked up the day before at a vegan bakery as she waited for Blaine to answer the question.

"I figured we could look around Washington Square Park and NYU today, but other than that I don't have anything else. Maybe the street performers will be out and we can watch them?"

"But it's supposed to be really hot today."

"We're in New York, Rachel. It's going to be hot _every day_ from here on out." Cooper had warned them about the heat when they were packing, banning Blaine from sticking a single pair of dress slacks or bowtie in his suitcase unless they were for evening wear. The last thing Cooper wanted to deal with was an overheated younger brother passing out on some random sidewalk, which Blaine understood. It did, however leave him needing more summer clothing, since he had never really been a shorts-wearing guy. He had to admit they were coming in handy; heat reflected off every concrete surface they walked on or past, and there were a lot of towering buildings sending sunlight and heat straight into the crowds Blaine and Rachel were travelling through. "And there are trees in the park, and air conditioning in the buildings on campus. You will be fine."

Rachel made a noncommittal noise as she reached for her coffee. "And," Blaine decided she needed a real draw for following him away from the theatre district for the third day in a row, "you could meet somebody with connections for when you move up here. Would you really want to be responsible for denying that person the chance to meet you?" she nearly paused mid-swallow, and Blaine had her. He could practically _see_ the fantasy playing out in her head: meeting the professor, who knows the casting director, who puts her in the show that wins her that shifty first Tony. As usual, she skipped thinking the chances of that happening were slim-to-none and rushed straight to the success. It was a very Rachel Berry trait, one Blaine only used in moments of extreme duress—or when he didn't want to start waking up at ungodly hours of the morning to sit in line for discounted musical tickets.

"I guess you're right. That really wouldn't be fair. But if they can't find me by the end of the day, I say we move in on the Great White Way tomorrow. I've already looked up the rules, and I think we should start off with Wicked; I'm looking at the Rush policy now and it looks like we can't stay out too late tonight, so it's good you don't want to do anything tonight, as we'll need our rest…"

Blaine tuned her out in favor of shooting a text to Cooper.

**Blainers [09:12am]:** Last day of wandering the neighborhoods before the Musical Extravaganza. Going around NYU and then probably going to be tranquilized so we can be up at the ass crack of dawn.

**Sparky McFlashpants [09:13am]:** may god hav mrcy on ur sol.

That was strange. Cooper may be lazy, but his texts were easier to read than that. Usually.

**Blainers [09:13am]:** Cooper are you okay?

**Blainers [09:13am]:** Would you tell us

**Blainers [09:14am]:** that you're okay?

Cooper hated when Blaine spammed him, and if he still wasn't a morning person, Blaine could imagine him clawing at the phone to get it to shut up, swearing as all three messages went off and startled him.

Blaine loved being a little brother with technology most in the mornings.

**Sparky McFlashpants [09:15am]:** m gnna kll u. had 1 lte night. c u lnch?

**Blainers [09:16am]:** Yeah, sure. Text when & where & we'll meet you.

**Sparky McFlashpants [09:17am]:** k c u l9r

**Blainers [09:18am]:** Dat meen moar den l8r?

**Sparky McFlashpants [09:19am]:** wll pss on evrythn u luv. Meet Fidalgoes 3 nw go awy.

* * *

><p>Blaine could remember the brilliance that was the sun on the New York sidewalks. The way the beams assaulted his retinas when he forgot his sunglasses in the hostel; pleasant splashes of warmth on his arms and legs as he and Rachel pounded the pavement looking for things to do. Was it only yesterday that he was eating lunch with Cooper on the patio of Coop's favorite bistro? All Blaine knew now was this; the pre-dawn cold and the darkened sidewalk outside the Gershwin.<p>

It was moments like these that made Blaine _hate_ having an aspiring actress as a best friend. When Rachel had given him the run-down the other afternoon as they wandered through Washington Square Park, she hadn't mentioned _anything_ about needing to get up at two in the morning so they could travel uptown for rush tickets. She also didn't mention Idina Menzel reprising Elphaba for the next couple of days, which was why Blaine found himself surrounded by crazed, sleep-deprived super-fans of the musical. None of those things were included in her plan for today, which left Blaine with a sore rear end from sitting on the curb for two and a half hours, waiting for the box office to open at 8am.

Blaine was cold, still tired, sore, hungry, and tired of the chatter around him. It was pretty quiet, but the enthusiastic rushers, who had gathered around his friend, were singing, laughing, and sharing the moments when Wicked songs had actual meaning in their lives.

It was like watching the formation of a cult. The Church of Elphaba. And while Blaine appreciated their enthusiasm, at 5:45 in the morning he would rather be sleeping in his rented (and admittedly uncomfortable, but not as much as the sidewalk) bed. Or headed out for some coffee. Actually, coffee sounded like a really good idea, since they had left the hostel in a hurry to catch the train to the Theatre District, leaving no time for a pick-me-up. And since Rachel would rather battle a rabid animal with her bare hands than lose her spot in line, Blaine would get a break from the talking.

"Hey Rachel do you want a coffee? I'm gonna go look for some, stretch my legs a bit." He smoothly interrupted the circle that had gathered around Rachel, smiling apologetically at the girl going over how her _The Wizard and I_ moment was the instant she got accepted to her dream school and realized she would be able to afford it.

"Sure, Blaine!" she turned to smile at him and the group tittered. Blaine groaned internally. The other downside to having a girl best friend were the jokes—

"Hel-_lo_, Blaine…" from the blonde clutching an original cast recording and waggling her eyebrows. More giggles as Blaine waved halfheartedly.

"Your usual?"

"If they have it."

Blaine nodded as he turned away, headed for what he hoped was Seventh Street and a row of shops that had seemed promising despite their not being open at three. The girls exploded in even more giggles as he walked away.

"So Rachel, is he the Fiyero to your Elphaba?"

"Sadly, no. But I'm sure he'll find an excellent boyfriend one day."

The collective groan faded as Blaine got farther away. That always seemed to be the way it was when he met new girls, and he didn't quite understand. He was shorter than the average high school boy; why look at the tiny one when there were herds of taller ones without his liking for bowties? It was an unsolved mystery for Blaine, despite Rachel constantly reminding him of his similarities to the dashing gentlemen from the golden age of musical theatre, but not all girls knew about those guys, did they? Not like it mattered—he wasn't interested. But not having to out himself every time a girl tried to make a move would be nice, too.

It would also be nice, Blaine figured, if he could manage to cross the street without being run over by taxis hurrying to wherever they wait on the morning commuters or young professionals out looking for breakfast. He put thoughts of girls and dapper gentlemen out of his mind as he navigated his way through the slowly growing crowd, hunting for a coffee shop that looked more promising than the Starbucks on every corner.

* * *

><p>The apartment was a piece of modern art, everything sleek and color coordinated exactly to Kurt's liking. Once he had been able to afford modern appliances, he bought them; the best in kitchen, laundry, and entertainment technology were craftily hidden away in cabinets, on counters, and in closets. Kurt knew he didn't want for anything. He had people who delivered groceries, a cleaning service that stopped by when he was out and kept the place spotless, and people who brought his packages to him wherever he happened to be in the city. He could literally stay in his apartment for the rest of his life and never need to leave again. And that was stifling.<p>

Not that Kurt wanted to run around the city at all hours of the day _and_ night with work errands and then personal ones, but it would be nice to walk out of The Olivia and go to the store for a half-gallon of milk every once in a while. Or to find the nearest post office to buy postage for a package he was sending to his dad by himself. Just any kind of reason to get out of the apartment when he wasn't working. Terri was so determined to keep tabs on him and his reputation she made sure he didn't have to go even the simplest of errands for himself—god forbid he get his picture taken at the Seven-Eleven with lounge pants on or something. What would that do to his reputation?

His ever-important _reputation_. Terri and Emma were so worried about what people saw in the papers. While he was glad he had a manager and publicist that cared, they went overboard a lot of the time. Like his birthday night. When he mentioned going out with Jeremiah and the dancers, Terri laid the rules on thick:

"_It would be okay, but you'd need Roz or somebody to go with you, and you couldn't go just _anywhere_, you know. Maybe to that new club that just opened up,"_

"_Where, the Havana?"_

"_It's exclusive enough. But you can't go drinking just anything. Or eating everything either."_

"_We wouldn't be going for the food, Terri."_

"_Of course not. You'd be going to have fun. And I get that; you would need to watch your dance partners as well. Don't want people to get the wrong idea about who you are…"_

And that had ruffled Kurt's feathers. What did Terri think he was; some kind of poster child? He could go, but he wasn't allowed to eat, drink, or dance the way he wanted. He decided to sit out that night instead of dealing with Roz or whoever was on guard duty and Terri's never ending list of rules. Terri's rules were another reason Kurt was feeling locked up. It wasn't worth her spewing restrictions on the stuff that made going out and having fun...well, fun. Keeping away from the media circus because he had some kind of image to maintain was boring. Following Terri's rules was boring. Lying awake at three in the morning and complaining about Terri and her rules to no-one in particular was maddening.

Kurt pushed her to the back of his mind and reached for his laptop. Maybe some mindless rounds of Plants versus Zombies would help him drift off for the night. Or maybe he just wouldn't sleep; Holly was due in a couple of hours for his morning Pilates, and Kurt was a slender pile of dead weight when he had less than five hours anyway. Keeping awake would probably be kindest for everyone.

His email notification went off. Surprise, surprise, an email from Terri.

_**To: Kurt**__ ""_

_**From: Terri **__""_

_**Cc: Emma **__""__**, Roz**__ ".com"__**, Giulia**__ "giuli_"__**, Dustin**__ ""__**, Sue**__ ""__**, Jesse**__ ".com"_

_**Subject: Alix Ayerson**_

_At 12:34am_

_We have to rearrange the schedule for June 1. Kurt has a dinner with Alix Ayerson tonight at 7. Guilia, we talked about meeting Kurt at The Olivia at 5 to get him ready this afternoon; please don't forget. We're also switching around choreo and vocal coaching for the week in favor of some other events; I'll have Howard send the updated agenda first thing in the morning._

_Apologies for the late notice and thank you for your bound-to-be exemplary work._

_Terri Del Monico_

_Manager, Prosper Talent, Inc._

Kurt swore heavily and re read the email. Who the hell was Alix and why did he have a dinner with him…her, Google soon revealed.

Alix Ayerson was the newest pet project of Los Angeles, making her way in Tinsel Town the way Kurt was attempting in the music industry, Kurt read. And why was Terri planning impromptu dinner dates with Hollywood prodigies? She was constantly complaining about his moving slow and throwing things off schedule; perhaps it wasn't as bad in her eyes when _she_ was the one re-arranging things.

Kurt wasn't interested in having dinner with this Ayerson girl. Her movies were, to him, fodder. Nothing about them interested him; run-of-the-mill teenage romantic comedies where the socially awkward heroine gets the boy. Maybe he didn't like them because they struck a nerve—why weren't there any where the guy got the guy?—Kurt wasn't sure. He just knew that the dinner was part of a Terri plot. She was probably aiming to get Summit or someone like that to cast him as their lead male in a teen movie. Kurt would go into _that_ movie deal kicking and screaming. So there was only one thing to do.

Kurt shut his computer off, walked to the bathroom, and began rifling through the impressive makeup collection stored in his cabinets.

Thirty minutes later, wig in place, makeup disguising his most noticeable features, and slightly out of date outfit thrown on, Kurt took the stairs down to the lobby and walked out the front doors.

Nothing threw a wrench into a stupid plan more than the pawns disappearing for the day.


	5. Coffee Break, Part II

**Hello there! Wow, this took a really long time to finish. College is ridiculous, and April should go on trial for being unfair as far as coursework is concerned. Anyway, here is the next chapter. I can't make any guarantees as to when the next one will be up, but I'll try to finish as soon as possible…**

**No spoilers in this one that I can think of. If you think you see any, let me know and I'll make changes. I was also too impatient to wait or my lovely beta, so any grammar mistakes are mine.**

* * *

><p>Kurt figured it took about 45 minutes for them to realize he was missing, and by then he was long gone, watching the city pull itself out of its late-night lull.<p>

It took an hour for the phone calls to start. He didn't answer; it was about time his voicemail got a chance to do its job. Terri would probably kill him whenever he decided to wander his way back to the apartment, but that wouldn't be for a while yet; it was just barely sunup now, and Kurt was making plans. Yeah, they were plans to do absolutely nothing in the Big Apple, but they weren't carefully planned 'marketing strategies' or 'professional development'. And these plans conveniently ignored the dinner party with Alix Ayerson, a major upside.

She was pretty, but Kurt wasn't interested. He wasn't sure why Terri thought he was, what with all the complaining Emma must have relayed to her when Kurt attended benefit dinners and A-list events. Hanging around the younger stars involved so many rules it just wasn't worth talking to them; don't mention this, they don't know about it. Can't go to that show with him because he's too young; can't dance with her because it goes against the image she has; for the love of all that is holy stop flirting with that one—she's too clingy and more likely than anyone to ruin your career if you break her little delusional heart. It would be more of the same if Kurt ate with Alix. So he was really doing them both a favor by not showing up.

One person he was not helping: Terri. In the twenty minutes since she'd made her first call, she'd called back ten times, left five voice messages and was working on flooding his inbox with texts.

_**Terri [05:53]:**__ What do you think you're doing? Wandering out by yourself, are you insane?_

Kurt snorted. Okay, Terri. Call your biggest client a nut job, _that'll_ make him come back…

_**KEH [05:54]:**__ nope._

_**Terri [05:54]:**__ This is not a joke. Where are you, there are people you need to meet._

_**KEH [05:55]:**__ don't care._

_**Emma [05:55]: **__Kurt, Terri's only asking because she's worried about you. This is going to be a nightmare if something happens. Can you come back so we can start the day, please?_

So now Emma was in on the action. But Kurt would not be swayed by the red haired, doe-eyed publicist. Even if she was the nicest out of the women Kurt got landed with.

_**Kurt [5:56]:**__ it's a huge city, i'll be fine. what is the worst that could happen?_

Kurt took a second to ponder that at a crosswalk. What _was_ the worst that could happen? He was in one of the largest cities in the country, completely hidden from everyone by cleverly applied makeup and a blonde wig. Nobody would be able to find him.

His phone vibrated again as he started crossing with the light.

His iPhone.

Which probably had a tracking device on it. Or in it.

That could throw a wrench into his day off.

He spent the next couple of minutes tapping furiously about the internet, looking for tips to turn that particular feature off before Terri remembered its existence and sent out the head hunters.

So he didn't see the boy backing out of the Caffébeane with cups of iced coffee and a bag of takeout until it was too late. They crashed into each other, limbs tangling as they hit the sidewalk, the boy's coffee flying out of his hands and directly into his lap. The iced coffee was enough to make Kurt realize he was kneeling on a grimy Times Square sidewalk, quite literally on top of another boy. A boy who was looking up a Kurt in total confusion with the most beautiful eyes Kurt had ever seen. They were brown, which should have been average enough, but there were traces of green around the edges; the lights from the still-lit neon signs created a shifting palette that mesmerized Kurt. In the space of a second, Kurt noted his eyes and his somewhat stunned expression as he got his bearings.

* * *

><p>Blaine had been put in a lot of very confusing situations in his life. There was the time Cooper convinced him the alphabet started with 'Z' when he was learning his alphabet; a couple of summers ago his parents' GPS kept sending Blaine to the recently opened strip club in Westerville no matter how many times Blaine reprogrammed it (turned out Cooper made college friends who knew how to redirect a GPS from a remote location).<p>

So most of Blaine's moments of confusion were Cooper related.

It was a nice change, not _knowing_ his older brother had something to do with the latest disaster. A disaster that was equal parts chilling and exhilarating. It wasn't everyday a New York boy practically falls into your lap. It also wasn't common to have lap-fulls of vegan-fair-trade-iced-coffee dumped into your lap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The boy scrambled off him and extended a graceful hand. Blaine took it carefully and got to his feet, swiping hastily at the coffee streaming in rivulets down his shorts to his legs and the pavement.

"You're fine." Blaine assured, bending over to continue wiping at his shorts. "I should have known better. I mean, who backs out of a shop on Broadway, right?"

A quietly embarrassed chuckle sounded from somewhere above him. "That's true. But I still feel bad. Are you okay?"

Blaine stooped to pick up his now-empty cups and the carry out bag. "Definitely. Just a little soggy"

"I can go get some napkins or something?"

"You don't have to do that." Blaine stood hurriedly, hoping to head off the boy and stopped dead, his words dying on his tongue.

The rising sun had been creating a convenient glare behind the boy; Blaine hadn't been able to get a clear view of his face until he was properly standing. The boy was gorgeous, all blond hair, gray-blue-green eyes and pale skin. His features were graceful, although they seemed a little muted… Was that makeup? Blaine wasn't about to complain; the guy could do whatever he wanted, it's 21st century New York, after all. And if he_ was_ wearing it, it was only helping show the angelic qualities about his face.

Make up aside, Blaine couldn't get enough of his eyes. They seemed to change color every time he blinked (how was that even _possible_?); his eyelashes framed them so they appeared larger than they already were.

Blaine hurried to organize his thoughts. Maybe if he seemed like less than concussed, the boy would understand he was okay and go meet the fabulous person he had to be dating. A boy like that was too pretty to be single. Now what would send him on his way?

"You don't have to get me any napkins, but I _was_ looking forward to that coffee…" he blurted and.

Well_ those_ weren't what he needed to let slip. He_ wanted_ to talk to this boy; doesn't mean he _should_, or that the feeling was mutual.

The eyes picked up a mischievous glint as the boy smiled at Blaine.

"Well then, we'll just have to get you another one, won't we?"

"I guess so." Blaine flashed him a smile. It had to be a good sign if he was flirting back, right? He offered his hand. "I'm Blaine."

The boy took it and shook. "Kurt."

Blaine _may_ not have made the connection if Kurt hadn't noticeably paled, swore under his breath, then pulled away and scratched at his hair which, now that Blaine was noticing, was just a little bit off center, blond where his eyebrows were brown. But his eyes, paired with the name, hit Blaine like a brick wall.

"You mean…like, Kurt Hum—" Kurt's hand clapped over Blaine's face and Kurt was in his ear, leaning into him with a presence that couldn't possibly be real and _shushing him_.

"I would hate to have to take off running because of a random crowd. And we definitely wouldn't be able to get that coffee then, would we?"

This was really Kurt Hummel. _Kurt Hummel_ was touching Blaine's face, breathing on him, _smiling_ at him like he was interesting. Blaine must have been hit by a taxi, or snatched into a shadowed alleyway and shanked or something; his subconscious is giving him his deepest desire since he doesn't have much time left. That made a lot more sense than what Blaine was experiencing. So Blaine took a calming breath around Kurt's hand and shook his head in reply to Kurt's question. His smile got brighter, if that was even possible, as he removed his hand, grabbed Blaine by the arm, and began pulling him down the street.

"I know some places smaller than this one that serve better coffee." He looked over his shoulder at Blaine and noticed his stained clothes. "And there are a couple places we can get some shorts, too."

Blaine nodded and allowed Kurt to pull him down the street. His imagination must have been convinced he was about to die; it would be better to go along with whatever he could dream up before he met whatever fate was waiting for him.

So he followed Kurt, watching the blond wig weave through the crowd.

* * *

><p><em>This kid is quiet<em>, Kurt determined as he sipped his mocha. They had wandered for a couple of blocks, long enough for Kurt to find an out-of-the-way ATM, before stumbling into a decent looking clothing store. Blaine had loosened up a bit while they were pouring through the racks for bottoms in his size, responding to Kurt's commentary on the stock (he laughed when Kurt proposed he try on the loudest pair of Bermuda shorts either of them had ever seen and made a comment about his best friend probably owning a pair; Kurt knew as soon as he heard Blaine he wanted to listen to that laugh again...), and the people browsing the racks around them. Blaine had settled on jean shorts similar to his original pair and balked when Kurt paid for them at the register.

"You really don't have to do that," Blaine had offered his debit card to the clerk, but Kurt

"But I do. I'm the reason you've got coffee everywhere. And I'm paying when we get to the café, too."

Blaine had glanced at Kurt, making eye contact for an instant before looking away and flushing a deeper red. He was still blushing now, sitting in front of Kurt and tying knots in his straw wrapper like they would explain the secrets of life. Kurt decided to get him talking.

"So Blaine, where were you headed?" Blaine looked up in confusion.

"Headed?"

"Before I gave you a lap full of coffee."

"I had picked up breakfast for me and my best friend. She's actually sitting rush at the Gershwin right now."

Kurt let out a low whistle. "Those lines must be hell. Idina's back, isn't she?" Blaine nodded.

"It was insane. She's got a group of people she met and they keep singing, so I needed a break; that's why I was out."

"So you took a break from singing and met a singer." Kurt smirked as he took another drink.

"You could say that." Blaine smiled, cautiously peeking at Kurt. He took a deep breath before clutching his coffee and asking a question.

"So what would a big singer be doing wandering around by himself?"

"Taking a bit of a personal day."

"Personal day?"

Kurt made a noise in the affirmative. "A whole day to do whatever he wants without worrying what anybody is thinking."

"Sounds exciting." Blaine's tone was cryptic; did he actually mean that, or just filling the silence?

"It's definitely looking that way." And it was. Kurt managed to crash into someone who obviously knew who he was but didn't kick up the usual fuss. When Kurt first noticed the recognition in Blaine's posture, he had been prepared to take off down the sidewalk, but Blaine clammed up when Kurt laid a hand over his mouth. He had behaved perfectly (if not _enthusiastically_) since then. Which was great. But Kurt really wanted to talk with him. The fact that he was willing to sit with Kurt had to say something about him, right?

"What makes you say that?" Blaine was watching Kurt in earnest now. It almost felt like Blaine was after the secrets to Kurt's mind; Kurt felt the crazy need to tell him everything if Blaine so much as hinted at being curious.

"The fact that I'm sitting in a quiet little café, having a drink with someone I'm not being forced to talk to is a big reason."

"Forced?"

Kurt nodded around his cup. "Sit pretty with the interviewer, say this and _don't_ go off it."

"That doesn't sound interesting at all."

"It isn't when they're old enough to be your grandparents." Kurt agreed. "Now, if they were closer to my age, I don't think it would be so bad. It'd just feel like talking."

Blaine's eyes darted to meet Kurt's, flashing uncertainly. "Like talking, huh?"

"Yeah. Just talking would be a nice change."

Another deep breath from Blaine. "Well then, maybe you ran into somebody you can…talk…with."

Kurt laughed as the rest of Blaine's blood flowed into his face. He was so flustered; it was cute. A nice change from the snooty reporters and entitled starlets he had to talk with most of the time. And about a million times better than any interaction with Terri or Sue.

"I think I would like that a lot." He held Blaine's gaze, trying his best to appear gentle and welcoming. It wouldn't do to scare off the one normal person Kurt's had the chance to meet in three years because he couldn't keep the ravenous need for regular contact out of his expression.

Blaine stared right back, something that looked like a mix between flattery and sheer terror running about in the back of his mind. Kurt could practically see the gears turning as he made his decision; at least, he could until _Barbara Streisand_ started blaring from Blaine's pocket. He scrambled for it, glancing apologetically at Kurt after he sent back a reply.

"Sorry, my friend. She's wondering where I am."

"I'm so sure. Couldn't wait to sell your story, could you?" Kurt put on an offended front, crossing his arms and huffing. Blaine paled and set his phone down.

"I wouldn't! I mean, you're out in," he fumbled for his words, not wanting to cause problems, "_disguise_. I'm not going to be the one to take that away from you!"

Kurt laughed again, watching Blaine sputter in quiet indignity. "I was completely kidding, Blaine. And it's cool if you have to go."

The tension flooded out of Blaine's shoulder. "That was a terrible joke."

"Terrible was it?"

"Yeah. I should probably get going; she's looking for me."

"Well, nobody is stopping you…" Kurt gestured to the door, feigning nonchalance. He didn't want this boy to go, not now that he was actually loosening up. Blaine shuffled around with his things, but didn't make an effort to get up.

"But I don't want to go."

"So don't. Come away with me, Blaine of the Gel. We can explore the city together."

Blaine laughed, picking up his phone again as his text tone went off. Kurt wondered if it was his general tone or just for this friend. He watched Blaine roll his eyes and pick up his things.

"Very tempting, but I can't. Rachel's threatening to release the hounds if I don't get back soon; we have to get ready for the show. Plus we have to meet someone for brunch, so…thanks?" he stood to leave, hesitating and creating the awkward pre-goodbye tension. Kurt stood too, guiding them to the trashcans and then the door to try and make it better. He wasn't going to sit in the shop alone once Blaine left.

"No problem. We can try again later."

"How?" They stepped out into the mid-morning heat.

"Gimme your phone."

Blaine did, dumbfounded. Kurt struggled over the blackberry's keys as best he could and pressed the 'call' button before handing it back to Blaine, who was staring at it as if the pope had blessed it.

"That's how. Now go meet your friend." Kurt shook Blaine's hand, savoring the calloused finger pads and the warmth from his hand in spite of the June heat. Handshake over, he turned Blaine in the direction of Broadway and gave him a little push. "Have fun. Oh, and Blaine?"

He stumbled a little before turning around and shooting Kurt an inquisitive look.

"I really would like a conversation buddy."

Blaine nodded dumbly, did a shaky about-face, and continued into the crowd. Kurt watched him wander off until his shiny, shorter-than-average head was swallowed up in the crowd. Once he was gone, Kurt turned back to his phone.

_Blaine,_ he keyed in, saving his new contact. _Coffee mate._

_A taste of Freedom_, he thought.

* * *

><p><strong>So there it is. I do post on my tumblr (lightningcolfer) when I'm writing or up to things, if you can find it around the obnoxious Klaining and caffeine-induced panic. That'll be the best place to gauge when an update is coming…<strong>

**See you soon!**


	6. Making Plans

**Sorry about the double notification, guys; I'm a formatting idiot. In other news, it's crazy people are even tracking this story to me. Thank you so much for that, by the way.**

**Oops, I turned into one of those authors who takes forever to update. I'm so so so sorry about that. Classes got ridiculous and then I had to take care of some real life stuff. And this didn't want to write itself very easily. But here it is! I'm going to start the next chapter now and ~hopefully~ I'll be able to update a lot more regularly.**

**Enjoy, and remember, feedback is always appreciated!**

Rachel was in a state.

"Really, Blaine? You leave to get coffee and stay gone _four_ hours?" she bustled down the stairs to the subway, glancing over her shoulder at him the best she could.

"I got caught up in something."

"And don't even get me started on _that_. Meeting some random guy and skipping off into the city? What part of the rules weren't you understanding when Cooper gave them?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "He wasn't _some guy_, Rachel." Yeah he wasn't. He was _Kurt freaking Hummel._ "If I hadn't felt safe, I wouldn't have gone with him."

Their train pulled into the station as Rachel whipped about to face Blaine. She was poised to strike a blow to his argument, but as she opened her mouth Blaine shoved in a piece of the cookie he was eating.

"It was fine. He was nice; I'm safe, he was the perfect gentleman, I'm not dead in an alleyway somewhere. And it was a one-time thing." He reassured while she choked down the cookie. "Now come on before we miss the train."

Blaine didn't _want_ it to be a one-time thing; of that he was positive. His phone was burning a hole in his pocket, Kurt's number sitting unsaved in his recent contacts. Kurt had been so much nicer than Blaine had imagined. If there was one thing Kurt was to the public, it was private—personal interactions with his fans were few and far between. It gave him an air of mystery, but at the same time, people had begun assuming Kurt Hummel was a bit of a diva, which Blaine had hoped wasn't true.

He had been part of the Hummel fan base way before Kurt had been picked up by the record label; he had subscribed to the YouTube channel and watched a sixteen-year-old putter around on a piano and sing his enchanting little heart out. For two years, Blaine had been wishing the best to this complete stranger, and he had hoped Kurt was nice to the fans he got the chance to meet. Blaine never figured he'd be one of the fans to meet Kurt. It still felt like a dream. Blaine had been perfectly content to believe it was until he'd met Rachel at the Gershwin; she was livid he'd left for coffee and stayed out for hours longer than he should have. He would have written up the morning as a dream made up by his mind as he huddled on the miserable Broadway sidewalks at six in the morning.

Blaine sighed as Rachel choked down the last of the cookie and followed him onto the subway, gearing up to prattle more on how irresponsible Blaine had been. He didn't see the problem—he accidentally bumped into someone, decided he could trust them, and went for coffee. Simple. Yet true to form Rachel was working herself into a fine froth, pointing wildly with her hands. A businessman watched her worriedly; she was the perfect height to rear back and stab him in the eye with one misjudged wrist flip.

"And what if something had happened before we met up again? It's a big city, Blaine! We wouldn't have been able to call or know if the other one was okay; and then what would we have to tell Cooper?"

"Okay, calm down." Blaine grabbed her wrists, crossing them in front of their chests. "I'm going to say it again: I felt safe, you were _surrounded_ by people; it was 9 am in the theatre district when we met up again, so all the dangerous people had already turned in for the night. Calm. Down." He put a finger to her lips when she opened her mouth to speak; he only colored a little when he remembered Kurt doing something similar to him a couple of hours before. "Stop worrying about it. I'm allowed to make friends. Besides, you're freaking people out."

She huffed when he dropped her wrists and uncovered her mouth. "Well excuse me for trying to be a good friend."

"I'll forgive you for being a drama queen." He laughed, nudging her shoulder good-naturedly.

"And _I'll_ forgive you for being horrendously irresponsible and leaving me to the elements of New York. Although it did give me some new characterizations to look into…"

And so Rachel retreated into her head, leaving Blaine to the clatter of the subway. It was nice, being left to his thoughts as they barreled down the darkened tunnel. At each of the stops, Blaine watched the steady stream of city dwellers move in and out of the subway car. Business people in somber suits typed away on smartphones, weaving between sleepy artists sipping their morning coffees around stay-at-home parents carting their children to dance or sports. They were all off in their own worlds, not realizing that Blaine had met his idol not even an hour ago.

Kurt's phone went off as he hopped on a random bus line. He ignored the texts from his production team and chose to open the newest couple.

**Pez [10:48am]:** Mnstr hz sht nuff brics 2 buld hous. Iz humml bein a bad boi?

**Pez [10:49am]:** I kno ppl who r *hppy* 2 fix bad boiz. U lyk spnkngs?

Good grief.

**Hummel [10:49am]: **No, Tana. Just…taking a day off. Unscheduled, like.

**Pez [10:50am]:** looka u, all ndpndnt. Geddit humml! Bt Mnstrs gnna wnt 2 kll u wen u cum bak.

**Hummel [10:51am]:** And I'm gonna kill *you* if you don't start using vowels.

**Hummel [10:52am]:** Also, what's Terri really going to do? She'd be out of a job if she tries anything over-the-top…

**Pez [10:53am]:** Id lyk 2 c u try.

**Pez [10:53am]: **I can, smartass, but it's a pain in mine, so I don't. Your last text is true, but dont expect any of us to come to your rescue when she lands the smack down. May be your friends but we arent stupid.

**Hummel [10:54am]: **I'm a big boy, Santana. I can handle myself.

**Pez [10:55am]: **if u say so… g2g, brk ovr. C u 2mrrw?

**Hummel [10:55am]:** Most definitely.

Kurt put his phone back in his pocket before looking around the bus and making sure his wig was on straight. There was still a lot of city to see; having a disguise slip-up would definitely put a cramp in his day off.

New York, Kurt decided as he watched the traffic from his seat, was really the city with a million cultures. He had wandered amazed through the neighborhoods, watching people run about their lives. Delivery men, couriers, students, and white-collar employees filled the sidewalks, texting and chatting and laughing and completely ignoring Kurt.

The anonymity was delicious; he hadn't realized how much he missed being able to walk into a restaurant and order whatever he wanted without Terri clucking about his diet or a paparazzo setting off flashes in his eyes. So he did just that for most of the morning, pop into delicatessens to sample the goods. Kurt wouldn't normally eat so much bad-for-you food, especially after he got news about his father's arrhythmia, but it was a special occasion—Kurt managed to make a friend.

Well, kind of. He ran over a fan; bought him a new pair of pants and a coffee before giving him his number, but he had seemed interested enough. He wasn't a screaming teenybopper, thank goodness. He—_Blaine_, Kurt had to keep reminding himself, _he has a name_—had to have been about Kurt's age, which was slightly outside the group Terri was aiming Kurt for, but Kurt wasn't complaining. Blaine opened up once he got over the shock, listening and laughing along with Kurt as they roamed the Off- and Off-off-Broadway streets in the early morning hunting for coffee. It had been nice; Kurt could almost pretend they were two friends out wasting time on a summer morning, nothing better to do than people watch and cause a little trouble before curfew.

And then Blaine shut down again in the coffee shop, as if sitting down put an end to any ideas he had in his head as to what was happening. Kurt remembered his blush, how it would get so much worse whenever they made eye contact…

Cooper was waiting outside the restaurant for them when they walked up, hands around his camera and focused on a flower gasping for life between a crack in the pavement.

"Shuffle a bit to the left, hobbits. You're blocking my light."

"We're not that short, Coop." Blaine grumbled, but pulled Rachel to the side. Who knew what prompted Cooper to go after that particular flower, but the fact that he didn't pull himself away from the lens long enough to greet them meant he was invested in getting whatever shot he could. It was easier to let him snap a few frames and move on.

Cooper made a noncommittal noise as he reached out to gently prod a leaf into a better angle. "Maybe not; you're tall enough to make shadows, after all."

Blaine scoffed as the camera shutter clicked a couple of times. Cooper stood up, swinging around to take a quick shot of Blaine and Rachel leaning against the restaurant. Rachel squawked and tried to cover her face while Blaine laughed at her.

"You've got to get her over her left shoulder or she won't let you take a picture, Coop." He walked over to lower the camera. He was sure his outfit was a mess; new shorts aside, riding the subways couldn't be the cleanest way to travel. And he hadn't had a chance to re-set his gel since they left the hostel that morning. Rachel nodded, turned her back to Blaine and Cooper before taking up her usual pose, making ridiculous faces every time the camera whirred.

"I really hope you're going for constipated there." Cooper held up his camera again, tilting it to look for a better angle.

"I'm _not_ constipated! This just happens to be my 'come-hither' expression, adapted from Olivia Newton-John's Sandy Dumblondsky from _Grease_! It's a classic!"

"Well from here it looks like you're about to pass a kidney stone." Cooper powered the camera off and stowed it away as Rachel let out an indignant huff. "We can work on your posing later. I'm pretty sure our reservation is soon."

They walked into the dimly lit waiting area, Blaine and Rachel standing to the side while Cooper arranged their seats with the maître d'. It was a nicer place than the other restaurants Cooper had arranged for them to meet; Fidalgoes had been little more than a hole-in-the-wall, 24-hour diner crammed between a shady pharmacy and what Blaine could almost guarantee was an adult bookstore.

"Looks like they may have actual stuff you can eat here, Rachel." Blaine said, glancing over the dividers at people enjoying their meal. There was some kind of salad on a plate, and what could have been a Portobello burger, Blaine wasn't too sure.

"Thank goodness. Maybe I should go looking for a vegan menu? If they have it, I'd like to know what they serve; restaurants can be so repetitive with their selections. You know, one time my dads and I went to an Indian restaurant in Cleveland and I could have _sworn_ their vegetarian options were the same as the Chinese one we'd eaten at the last time we were there."

Blaine made a consoling noise. "A travesty. Maybe you should go see what they offer." Rachel was notorious for taking forever discussing everything on the menu before making her final choice. Hopefully if she saw a menu before they were actually seated, lunch would only take an hour and a half instead of three. As Rachel went off in search of a vegan menu, Cooper came over to Blaine.

"Avoiding Rachel, I see."

"She's _your_ friend. I like my minors quieter than that one tends to run."

"Classy, Coop. Real classy. But you did agree to keep tabs on her this summer."

"I only agreed to watching _her_ because I figured _you_ needed a 'Get Out of Lima Free' card. You were kind of a package deal."

"A package deal that hasn't been very much of a package here lately." Rachel said from over Blaine's shoulder. Blaine swore, startled, before rolling his eyes.

"This is the first time Rachel; and it probably won't be the last."

"So you _are_ going to see him again! I knew it—Blaine, you're going to wind up thinking you're in love and he's going to take you to Turkey or somewhere without any of us knowing and you'll be missing for years; how are you going to play my romantic counterparts then?"

He snorted, glancing nervously at Cooper out of the corner of his eye. The conclusions he had to be jumping to were going to be hell to unravel, Blaine just knew it.

"I didn't mean that. I meant we're both going to find things we want to do the other one really isn't interested in, and so we'll go out and do them alone."

"And you'll let me know whenever something like that happens." Cooper cut in, looking seriously at Blaine. "Do I need to give the stranger danger talk again? You've been here five days; I didn't think I'd have to repeat it until the twelfth at the earliest, Blaine. And then I figured Rachel would need it."

"Why would I—"

"Oh hey look, a hostess is trying to get our attention. Let's go sit down before anybody gets the third degree."

This lunch was going to _suck._

_Contacts_. That's what Kurt forgot when he was getting ready. The coloured contacts Giulia had bought for him when he snuck out of the city to film _Quarter Past_; he had forgotten to put them in before he left the apartment. They were annoying, and muddied his eyes to a regular grey, but not wearing them was probably what let Blaine figure out who he was. Well, his lack of contacts and the fact that Kurt practically climbed Blaine when he tried to say his name out loud were what did it. Maybe if Kurt had remembered how to act like a normal person he wouldn't have been discovered at all.

But then, he didn't feeling bad about being found out. Blaine had been sweet, and he wanted to talk with Kurt again. So maybe it was a good thing he had forgotten the contacts.

Another thing he had forgotten: what exactly there was to do in the city apart from eat. Kurt figured he was in Midtown; what was here again?

**To: Coffee Mate [12:45]:** I think I've run out of things to do. Suggestions?

Rachel's arguing with Blaine about his jaunt through the city added to her usual indecision on what she wanted to order made lunch take even longer than it usually did. She was adamant that Cooper give his speech again, but after hearing both sides of the story at least three times at Rachel's behest and multiple death glares from Blaine, Cooper decided that they were both fine without the review.

"I really feel like you're over-reacting, Rachel. Blaine decided he had everything under control; you were in an area where you were plenty safe—"

"But he was in a strange part of the city with a complete stranger!"

"Oh for the love of—" Blaine had had enough of her knocking his morning. "You were too! You were standing around in the middle of the theatre district at eight in the morning with a group of awesome and complete strangers!"

"But that's different. We had a mutual appreciation for Musical Theatre." She said, taking a sip of her water. She really didn't get it, did she?

"No, it's the same. Me and this guy had a mutual appreciation for me not having coffee-stained pants and a desire for conversation. Does that make it any better for you? The only way it's slightly different is that I had one guy to talk to while you were singing with a group of five girls. I told you it wasn't a big deal. Back. Off."

Rachel looked to Cooper, eyes wide with a deranged 'See what I have to put up with?' gleam in them. Cooper threw his hands up, warding off an attack.

"Hey, he's got a point. You were both alone with strangers." He said. "My only complaint is that neither of you bothered to text sooner. So we're gonna count this as a dry-run; nobody's parents are going to be told, and we're going to forget it ever happened." He shot a pointed glance at Rachel. "I'm serious. No grudge-holding. We just had a failure to communicate; happens all the time. But I've come up with a solution:

"Next time you separate, you text me and the person you're apart from on the regular: the rough area where you're headed, when you plan to get back, and if plans change. Especially if plans change. Got it?" Blaine and Rachel nodded, Rachel with a defeated look, Blaine with relief. Hopefully Cooper's rule would kill any more of Rachel's tirades on the dangers of strange New Yorkers for a couple of hours.

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, what exactly do you have planned for today?"

"Well, we've got tickets to the evening showing of Wicked tonight; that's the big thing for the day." Blaine said before Rachel could start in on Idina and whatever Wicked tangent she's been cooking up in her head between the self-righteous lectures on personal safety. "I'm not sure about after that, though."

"I'm thinking we can sit for Chicago tomorrow morning, so we'll have to call it a night right after the show. We could stop for dinner or something after, of course…but after we leave here, I'd really like to go back to the hostel and start getting ready." Rachel said. Blaine cringed internally. Another early morning waiting on discounted theatre tickets.

Blaine's phone went off in his pocket, the text tone blaring one of Kurt's latest hits while he scrambled to pull it out. He had to school his face into some kind of calm as he opened the message.

Kurt had actually texted him.

**Unknown Number [12:45pm]:** I think I've run out of things to do. Suggestions?

How was he supposed to answer that? Blaine didn't have much clue on New York activities, apart from what he and Rachel had already gotten up to; that stuff was so touristy that Kurt couldn't possibly be interested, right?

**Coffee Mate [12:46pm]:** well, that was fast. how have you lived in New York for years and never figured out a day's worth of things to do?

**Unknown Number [12:47pm]:** Oh, come on. You're brand new here. There has to be something you haven't tried yet. You can live vicariously through me.

**Unknown Number [12:47pm]:** Or…you know. I can get to know the place and show it to you later.

Blaine choked on his French fry and dodged Rachel's concerned glances and back pats. Cooper merely sipped his coffee and muttered "Arms up."

"Who is texting you right now?" Rachel said,

"Tina," Blaine lied. "She wants to know where I go for hair gel."

**Coffee Mate [12:50pm]:** how much later is 'later'?

**Coffee Mate [12:50pm]: **that was a stupid question forget i said anything.

**Unknown Number [12:51pm]:** it wasn't stupid. actually it was a really good one. what're you doing tonight?

Oh, okay. So it was happening. Blaine was in the middle of setting up a dinner date with a teen icon.

Perfectly normal activity for a Wednesday afternoon. So normal. So he should really calm down and work on breathing again so Rachel didn't make another grab for his phone.

**Coffee Mate [12:52pm]: w**e're going to the show, and then back to our hostel. didn't make any promises about staying in for the night tho.

**Unknown Number [12:53pm]: **excellent. well then. i can meet you somewhere? how about the caffebeane?

**Coffee Mate [12:54]: **where we hit it off? Literally…

**Coffee Mate [12:54pm]: **that would work.

**Coffee Mate [12:55pm]:** but only if you're okay with it.

**Unknown Number [12:55pm]:** LOL. Wouldn't be asking if I wasn't.

**Unknown Number [12:55pm]: **text me when you're done with the show and i can meet you there?

**Unknown Number [12:55pm]:** and don't forget ;)

How in the world would Blaine forget? This had to be one of the greatest days of his life. It was probably _the_ greatest. He met Kurt Hummel, got to talk with him, and was going to meet him after watching Idina Menzel reprise one of her greatest roles. The only way the day could get any better was if it suddenly got cool enough for him to wear one of his favorite bow ties for the show that night. Blaine hadn't held out much hope for that when they first left the hostel that morning.

But after a day like this one, anything was possible.

**There we go. Finally. I feel better now that it's out. Here's hoping I can get back on schedule. I had wanted to post every Friday, but life gets in the way. Be very surprised if I get another chapter posted by Friday evening though; I know I will be.**

**Oh! And I forgot. I have a tumblr, and it is****lightningcolfer(.)tumblr(.)com****. You may think you're following that one, but due to some issues I had to separate fandom from real life. The lightningcolfer you**_**were**_** following is now jcharelle, and this lightningcolfer is my fandom tumblr. Sorry about the confusion. lightningcolfer is where I'll post links and updates on when I'm about to publish anything.**


	7. Repercussions

**Oh, look! An update, faster than the last one! I couldn't get Kurt to stop talking this time…**

**A warning for some language and a maybe awkward jump in scenes (I've noticed I do those a lot; are they bothering anybody? [S/N: I kind of need a beta reader; it's really hard to contact my original one at the moment. You'll get sneak-peeks on everything that's going to happen!]) Also blatant disregard for canon behavior of the 2 people I'm introducing until I have a chance to go re-visit their story arcs.**

**Also, I don't know where I'm supposed to say this, or if I am, but the formatting for the latter half of this chapter is loosely inspired by ****Little Numbers****, by Heartwolf, which updated today and comes highly recommended. It's such a cute idea and so practical for the boys I had to borrow it :)**

* * *

><p>Kurt was floating on his own personal cloud nine as he rode the elevator back up to his high rise. The post-Wicked dinner with Blaine had been amazing. The meet-up went smoothly enough; Blaine took his friend to the subway before meeting Kurt at the coffee shop where their pasts first crossed. From there they wandered mostly—Kurt steering them clear of The Olivia and Blaine seeming determined to keep them out of East Chelsea. They wound up in a restaurant in Little Italy, where they watched the couples strolling past, headed to bars and concert halls.<p>

Blaine had been full of stories about the show, and Kurt had been more than willing to listen. It was interesting, seeing this regular guy talk about musical theatre. Kurt's people spent so much time talking about his newest project that Kurt almost forgot that other artists existed. Kurt said as much during a lull in Blaine's play-by-play of the first act; Blaine dropped his story and asked about Kurt's professional life, and when Kurt balked at the questions:

"You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I mean, we're in public and everything…"

But Kurt told as much as he could, about Emma and Roz and the rest of his entourage; the good times they had during rehearsals, the first couple of gatherings he'd been cleared to go to without Terri being there to watch over him like a demented hawk. Blaine and he had laughed for hours about Finn and the dancing lessons Brittany gave him when he complained about dancers not keeping rhythm to his beats, Sebastian's many drunken Karaoke solos, and Sugar's attempts to convince Kurt and Dustin that a subwoofer was just the thing to make the bass line stand out on the CD.

And if Kurt dropped hints that not everything was completely perfect, Blaine didn't probe. So the dinner was most definitely a success.

However, dinner was behind him—now Kurt was back at The Olivia, waiting for the elevator to open to his apartment, at 3 Thursday morning. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that someone would be waiting on him once he stepped over the threshold. He hoped it was Emma; she was easier to handle than Roz, and compared to Terri, Emma was practically a fuzzy woodland creature. Emma he could convince that his jaunt was necessary and not totally unprofessional.

So of course it's Terri perched in the 'parent pose' Kurt had only seen in movies—sitting back in the lone armchair, ominously in the shadows except for the relief cast on her face from the lamp on the coffee table. If it weren't for the fact that she rearranged his furniture for the effect, Kurt would have been terrified.

"Taken up interior decorating, Ter? I gotta say, you're no Sandy Ryerson, but you're showing some real potential. I'm loving the 'psychotic' air you've given the sitting room."

"You aren't funny, Kurt."

"Not even a little?" He moved to the center of the room, crossing his arms and preparing for battle. If Kurt was hard to handle if he woke up with too little sleep, Terri was just as bad if she stayed up too late. Kurt had to prepare for the worst.

"Do you realize how bad your little stunt could make us look? People are bound to realize you just don't care about keeping your obligations. We said you came down with a case of food poisoning, but trying to make up sessions with Leno, the tailor, and the tour producers is going to be damn near impossible. We had this stuff booked for months."

He beat down the guilt she was trying to make surface.

"The tailor and producers shouldn't be that hard to get into contact with; aren't we all under contract or something?"

"You're missing the point. You can't just up and leave every time you feel like it. It's unprofessional."

Kurt bristled. Making accusations already? Terri was an idiot if she thought Kurt was about to lie there and accept whatever she threw at him.

"No, what's really unprofessional is planning random dinner dates with underage movie starlets who have less personality than old bath water, and then trying to force them on someone who has made it obvious they are not interested in said starlet."

"It isn't unprofessional, it's business. Alix has got a lot of good things going for her, and so do you. It only makes sense to pair you up right now—"

"Pair us up?" Kurt said, and if his voice was a little louder than it should have been for the wee hours of a Thursday morning, too bad. "What are we, some purebred dog and bitch being mated or something? I'm not fucking with the Ayerson circle just because it seems like a good idea."

"I would appreciate it if you watched the way you spoke to me." Terri hadn't moved since Kurt entered the apartment. Kurt hadn't noticed until she raised her hands to her lips, fingertips pressed together. If felt like she was analyzing him, and she probably was. Looking for the one thing to say that could bring Kurt back under her control.

"I'm not asking you to marry the girl, just make friends. You never know what connections she'll have."

"But if I'm making friends because of her connections, I'm not really making friends, just using her to get ahead."

"Exactly." Terri nodded, expression lightening since Kurt seemed to be understanding.

"But wouldn't that make us fake? Especially once she hits the scandal a young movie star is prone to have and drives that sterling reputation and its connections into the ground and we stop talking with her and her people?"

Terri sighed, exasperated. "You're extrapolating. There're no signs that she's headed that way—"

"Or were there for the Olsen twins. Or Lindsay Lohan. Or—"

"Enough with the commentary. Alix has talent and people out to make sure she reaches her potential." Kurt rolled his eyes. Sure Alix had potential, just as much as Kurt showed real promise at juvenile dentistry. "I had been wondering why they felt she needed so many people around, and after your little stunt, I'm thinking I understand."

Understand? Understand what? She'd pulled the rug from under Kurt's feet; he wasn't sure were the argument had gone. Terri took his silence as one of wonderment and continued.

"We need more people here to make sure you keep on track. Especially if you're going to take impromptu personal days." She picked up her phone from the end table and pressed a button. Kurt watched warily as the call was placed, wondered suspiciously when she snapped out "Send them up."

But he understood when two guys walked off the elevator and sized him up. One was short and stocky; he looked more equipped for a day of watching pay-per-view sports channels than for standing around a million-dollar high-rise in the middle of the Theatre District. His piggy eyes darted around the living room, and Kurt felt the need to scrub down everything that caught his gaze. The other was taller, and seemed to be well-muscled under his t-shirt, his arms brawny and crossed intimidatingly over his chest.

"Terri, what are you doing?" Kurt asked, eyeing the men warily. He had a pretty good idea, but he wanted Terri to say it.

"Making sure this…thing doesn't happen again. These are Carl and Ken; at least one of them is going to be nearby at all times, making sure you're safe and accounted for."

"So they're babysitters."

"We prefer to be called bodyguards, actually." The taller one said "Since that's what we do."

"Bodyguards who are apparently going to be staying in my apartment when I'm here, and trailing around to make sure I don't get lost or into trouble. Sounds like babysitting to me."

The stocky one moved forward. "Hey. We just happen to be some of the best in the business. They trained us in jujitsu, tae kwon do, and plain old street fighting." He took a second to readjust the waistband of his shorts. "I've personally taken down professional wrestlers just to prove that I could. Nothing's gonna get past me."

Kurt stared. He had adopted a very smug expression, waiting on someone to ask him about the wrestler, but no-one was interested. Kurt didn't have Pilates in the morning and unless Terri scheduled something while he was out yesterday he didn't have plans until eleven; he really wanted to get to bed. He shot a glare at the men and Terri.

"You have hired idiots, I don't approve of babysitters, and I swear that you will regret this decision." Kurt said. He moved towards his room as Terri finally stood.

"Are you threatening me, Kurt?" he turned around and gave an obviously well-rehearsed smile.

"Never, Terri."

The taller babysitter moved to follow Kurt to his room and Kurt rounded on him.

"Let me make it clearer than I already have: I. Don't. Want. You. Here. Stay out of my way and you won't have any problems, but if I wake up and find either of you in my room there will be hell to pay; and that is a threat."

He didn't hear anything past Terri's scandalized "Kurt!" as he slammed the door and turned the lock home. The nerve of the woman, calling people to watch him like he couldn't be trusted.

Granted, he had spent 24 hours in disguise in one of the largest cities in America. But if Terri had taken into account that there is more to life than the next project or venture he wouldn't have felt the need to disappear for a while. And he also wouldn't have met Blaine. Meeting him had been a good thing; for the first time since freshman year Kurt had someone he felt he could tell things to without them getting jealous or turning the conversation to get Kurt in trouble. Kurt could have normal conversations now. So he didn't regret the sneaking out—he would force himself to deal with the consequences. Ken and Carl may have been able to keep Kurt from leaving the premises, but they wouldn't be able to stop him from talking to people.

Kurt emptied his pockets of the day's spoils: candy wrappers (since when did a king size Kit-Kat substitute a meal?), loose change (who knew quarters could be so heavy?), restaurant menus and calling cards (did he really stop at that many restaurants?), his wallet, his phone. He checked for any messages he might have missed during his confrontation and saw one from Blaine.

**Coffee Mate [2:34am]:** I got back fine. I don't think I've ever seen Rache this mad…oops? It was fun though.

**Coffee Mate [2:35am]:** let me know when you make it home, okay?

**Coffee Mate [2:37am]:** or not. Since I'll hear about it if you actually *do* go missing.

**Coffee Mate [2:37am]: **god. I'm going to stop texting now.

**Coffee Mate [3:02am]: **okay, so I lied. Are you okay?

Kurt chuckled. Blaine must not be from a very big town, if not answering for about a half-hour is enough to make him nervous.

**Ohmigod [3:12am]:** sorry about that. couldn't hear the phone over the trains. then i got in a little trouble and really didn't feel it going off. but i'm home now.

**Coffee Mate [3:13am]:** glad you're home safe. trouble?

**Ohmigod [3:14am]:** ya my manager was waiting for me in my living room and she wasn't happy. i have babysitters now :/

**Coffee Mate [3:15am]:** i'm sorry for you. But at the same time i don't blame her?

**Ohmigod [3:15am]:** hey now who's side are you on?

**Coffee Mate [3:16am]:** I'm just saying. You're a little too well-known to try that kind of thing too often. People can be bad crazy sometimes. And having a little brawn to help you out can only be a good thing…

**Ohmigod [3:17am]:** what are you even? the voice of reason?

Kurt hit send before he had a chance to register what he'd said. Shit. There were the claws. He knew he could be catty when people told him no, and he was usually pretty good about unleashing his inner bitch only on Terri when she deserved it. The problem here was that Kurt was in the wrong—he knew it, Terri knew it, and apparently Blaine knew it—and he didn't want the fact that most of America knew his name to distract from his being newly legalized and needing to live his own life. He sighed and picked his phone back up again.

**Ohmigod [3:20am]:** crap. sorry. you and terri are right, i just don't want them around just yet. i'm gonna head to bed. text you later?

It was a while before Blaine replied; long enough for Kurt to have showered, put on his pajamas, and started his skin care regimen before he heard the familiar buzzing of the phone's vibrating.

**Coffee Mate [4:23am]:** it's fine, you wer mad, i get it. and sure. wish i could be you; i'm headed to the District again. rush for Chicago tciketes. kill me it would b kinder than this…

**Ohmigod [4:25am]:** you don't seem very excited. all those women running around in lingerie with garters everywhere…

**Coffee Mate [4:27am]:** not interestd. i got to sleep mayb and hour nad then had to get up again. i can tough ti alone tho. you go to sellp okay?

**Coffee Mate [4:28am]: **typos yes. dont care. text u eventaluly.

**Ohmigod [4:29am]:** jesus, blaine. go find some coffee…

**Coffee Mate [4:29am]:** GO TO BED KURT

What did he mean, 'not interested?' Kurt wondered as he pulled the covers over his head. Not interested in sitting rush, or not interested in the women themselves?

Kurt didn't want to think about that any further. Blaine had to be nervous because Kurt was a singer he really liked from an aesthetic standpoint. That had to be it.

Because it would make no sense for a boy like that to want another boy, period.

* * *

><p>Kurt awoke at ten to the blaring radio of his alarm clock and a slew of messages from Blaine.<p>

**Coffee Mate [5:34am]: **i really odn't get why wer're awake right now.

**Coffee Mate [5:35am]: **the ambassador doesen't even OPEN until 12.

**Coffee Mate [5:45am]:** and NOBODY ELSE IS OUT HERRE

**Coffee Mate [6:50am]:** and she wont let us stop fo r coffee

**Coffee Mate [6:55am]:** im not allowed to go get nay by myself…

**Coffee Mate [7:15am]:** we're going back to the hsoelt BLESS

**Coffee Mate [8:22am]:** ugh. bed yes. night.

Poor kid. From the times they had texted before, Blaine had to be exhausted to be hitting random buttons on his Blackberry and not bothering to correct them. Either that or his spelling generally sucked, which wasn't likely. Was he meaning to text Kurt, even?

**Ohmigod [10:15am]:** okay so i'm the only person you're allowed to drunk text. especially if you livetext everything.

**Ohmigod [10:45am]:** Hello?

**Ohmigod [11:00am]:** I know you all have to be up by now to catch the subway…

Maybe he had forgotten his phone. Which wasn't likely. He could have just been busy, not feeling it go off. At any rate, the car had arrived to whisk Kurt and one of the bodyguards (the stocky one, who told Kurt he was Ken as he ate half of the muesli Kurt fixed for breakfast) away to Choreography.

**And that's it for now! Promise there will be more interaction later; I just decided that I really want to get this out ASAP. I'm trying to power through these next few because I'm really excited for the stuff that comes later…**

**See you soon!**


	8. Meet the Sidekicks

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Queer as Folk, any Broadway shows mentioned, etcetera. If it sounds like it belongs to someone, that someone is more likely than not somebody else.**

**Warnings: Language, male-on-male flirtation and general awk. Santana being Santana. Sebastian being a slightly tamer version of Sebastian. Also blatant disregard for how one goes about planning a world tour and the layout of the hostel where Blaine and Rachel are staying.**

**I don't have a million things to blather about for once; go forth, read, and commentate.**

* * *

><p>To call the rehearsal 'nerve wracking' would have been an understatement, and Kurt could tell you exactly why. Sue was on the warpath since Kurt skipped out on a mega rehearsal for the big showstopper planned for the middle of the concert; he was dancing on eggshells to make it up to her. The pressure to review everything from the day previous and what Sue had scheduled only added to the fact Kurt was worried he had scared Blaine away somehow earlier that morning. And then Roz, Terri, Emma, and Carl (who had been waiting to switch places with Ken outside the dance studio), and the dancers all kept watching him like he was going to vanish in a cloud of smoke and dastardly laughter or something.<p>

It was more intensity than Kurt had bargained for. Thankfully, as he left the studio with Carl in tow, his phone sounded again: a text message.

**Coffee Mate [12:44pm]:** Sorry about that. We got lost looking for the place we were meeting a friend, then Rachel dragged me to the theatre for tickets. We have them now.

**Ohmigod [12:50pm]:** he responds…finally. best get-out-of-choreo surprise yet—and you're texting normal, even.

**Coffee Mate [12:51pm]:** There's enough caffeine in my system to make an elephant's heart explode. On the upside, all systems are go, with no twitching on my part. It'll keep me going at least to the end of the show; after then I make no guarantees.

**Ohmigod [12:54pm]:** good luck and godspeed, young one.

* * *

><p><em>Chicago<em> was over, and Blaine was floored. He had known the show would be good; he'd made Wes and David watch it with him a couple of times, but he had been wary of seeing it live. It was definitely worth the near overdose of caffeine he'd taken to stay awake for the show.

He wanted to tell someone about it, but who? Rachel had just seen it with him and was talking animatedly to one of her dads about it. Wes was on some extensive vacation with his family, and David was volunteering with Habitat for Humanity in the middle of No-Cell-Reception-Land, Appalachia. Mike and Tina were off being counselors at their summer camp; Quinn was out of town, Blaine was pretty sure; Cooper he knew he could just tell the next time they had brunch. So there was only one person_ to_ text.

**Coffee Mate [5:42pm]:** so it was AMAZING.

**Ohmigod [5:56pm]:** I should hope so. It *was* a Broadway show.

**Coffee Mate [6:00pm]:** well, yeah. But still. I was worried.

**Ohmigod [6:58pm]:** you worry about the weirdest things…

**Coffee Mate [7:00pm]: **oh really?

**Ohmigod [7:25pm]:** yes, really.

**Coffee Mate [7:26pm]:** how so?

**Coffee Mate [7:26pm]: ***do* explain, o wizened one.

**Ohmigod [7:30pm]:** wizened?

**Ohmigod [7:30pm]:** excuse you.

**Coffee Mate [7:31pm]:** behold, it texts back! Figured that would catch your attention. Now explain.

**Ohmigod [7:33pm]:** *it*! and I'm technically at dinner at the moment—phones are ok.

**Ohmigod [7:35pm]: **and no.

**Coffee Mate [7:36pm]:** no?

**Ohmigod [7:37pm]:** I'm sorry what?

**Ohmigod [7:37pm]:** My 18 year old brain can't keep up with the conversation.

**Ohmigod [7:38pm]:** After you hit 17 on the pop star track, your brain starts turning into swiss cheese. i'm practically a goner.

**Ohmigod [7:38pm]:** maybe if I could put your face to the photo I keep in my wallet, I'd actually be able to recall what's going on…and doing it over a meal could only make it easier to remember…

**Coffee Mate [7:42pm]:** i

Blaine set his phone down after sending the message, feeling giddy. This was the most he and Kurt had texted inside an hour since they met-and Kurt was asking him out to eat for the second time in as many days. Maybe they would get to talk some more in person, rather than through scattered text messages whenever either of them had a spare moment.

It was frustrating, only texting a couple of times an hour. Blaine figured after about twenty minutes Kurt got busy, so he laid around the hostel, ignoring Rachel's constant requests that they get out and do something. He opted for a night of terrible reality TV before deciding to get ready for bed. He was in the middle of washing his face when his phone vibrated. Despite his mother's warnings about texting with chemicals on his face, Blaine opened the message.

**Ohmigod [9:34pm]:** sorry, off dinner. Forced trip to the gym with holly. You…?

**Coffee Mate [9:36pm]:** who's holly?

**Ohmigod [10:01pm]:** personal trainer. Now quit being distracted.

**Ohmigod [10:02pm]:** can you or can you not do food sometime soon? And somewhere decent this time.

Blaine tightened his already vise-like grip on the phone, trying carefully not to let it slip from his damp hands into the sink full of running water. He squinted through his eyelashes to look at the text. That couldn't possibly say what he thought it said. Absolutely not…

But Kurt had hinted at it earlier. Up there, in between the jokes about his age. So there was no mistaking this for what it was, right? A request for a lunch…a date? A something.

He blinked stupidly at his phone before hissing in acute pain from the soap that managed to sneak its way into his eyes. Blaine chucked the blackberry at the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor before throwing what had to be half the hostel's hot water into his face in an effort to both relieve the burning in his eyes and buy himself a little time.

* * *

><p>Well, at least Blaine wasn't flustered because Kurt had kind of snapped at him; they had texted more after that whole event. And he definitely wasn't missing. Or lost in the sewers of the Upper East Side, although how he could have wound up there was beyond Kurt. Kurt should have been able to relax a little as they rolled through Manhattan, but he couldn't—Blaine hadn't responded after Kurt sent his text asking for a chance to talk with him again; now he, Santana, and Sebastian were on their way to the recording studio to polish some audio for the tour, a full fifteen hours after Kurt had asked. Dustin's recording studio was on the other side of the Island and quite a drive from the dance studio, but Kurt never usually minded. The traffic jams gave him time to think, or to talk with whoever was riding with him.<p>

Days like this one should have been a special treat—he'd managed to convince Roz that her following in another car wouldn't cause catastrophic harm to come to his schedule (added ammunition for his argument came in the form of Carl, who had taken shotgun after he got Kurt situated in the back of the town car), and she'd left him with Santana and Sebastian. They were bickering over the top of Kurt, who had demanded he and Sebastian switch places as they hit Harlem, since Seb was threatening to tie Santana's hair to the 'Oh Shit' handle if she kept talking about his failed conquests the previous weekend.

"But the whole point of the show is that love is a complicated thing to find" Sebastian said as Kurt stuck his phone in his pocket, disappointed there was still no reply form Blaine.

"Yeah, that's exactly what the writers were going for, Killer." Santana snickered, rolling her eyes as he bristled at the name. "It wasn't an excuse to write soft core porn at all."

"What wasn't an excuse to write porn?" Kurt demanded.

"Queer as Folk." Santana answered. "Apparently Sebby here just finished it a couple nights ago."

"It's not all porn. There's plot, too. Epic romances, political issues, social commentary—"

"And lots of dicks going up asses." Santana leered at Sebastian, pulling a nail file out of her purse. "Can't forget the dicks."

"Why I bother arguing with you over porn you're not even interested in is beyond me." Sebastian said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"So you admit it's porn." She sat up straighter in her seat, her trademark smirk firmly in place. Even her strokes with the Emory board seemed smug and self-assured. "Just because I'm not a fan of phalli around me anymore doesn't mean I can't appreciate when two go at it. I'm just saying don't say the show is more than that."

They'd argue the entire way to the studio if he couldn't get them to agree on something about the show. Kurt decided to mediate.

"Santana, have you actually seen it?"

"The first couple episodes."

"Okay then, can't Sebastian have a point, if you haven't seen the whole series like he has?"

"I mean, maybe…" Santana said, tucking the nail file back into her purse.

"And Seb, Santana also has a point; there is a lot of action being gotten, right?"

Sebastian nodded, looking moderately appeased. Santana huffed and shot a glance at Kurt.

"Dammit, Hummel. What the hell else are we supposed to talk about? There's still twenty minutes till we get there."

Kurt shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. I just don't want to listen to you argue the finer points of porn before we have to get out and face Terri and Dustin."

Santana merely rolled her eyes before she turned to look out the window, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'fun-sucker'.

"I know what we can talk about," Sebastian turned to Kurt, what Kurt called his 'Meer Cat face' firmly in place. "Kurt's little jaunt into the big bad city yesterday."

"Yeah Kurt, what was that all about? You just go missing for an entire day?" Santana also turned to face Kurt, crossing her arms.

"An unscheduled personal day with kickoff at the end of the month?" Sebastian added, accusing Kurt of being irresponsible more than actually asking him a question. Kurt shrank down a little into his seat, hoping making himself seem smaller would lessen whatever lesson the two were going to try and give him before they had to leave the car.

"You'd better have gotten up to some good shit, is all we're saying." Santana said, giving him the once-over. Kurt hated when she ogled him like that, as if she were searching for something. She claimed that Kurt had 'virgin' written all over him, and she'd know when he turned in that particular card; when she inspected him with her critical eye, he could believe her.

"I didn't do anything like that San, good grief." She tsked in disappointment but kept watching him.

"Then what was the point of sneaking out?"

"You need to figure out there's more to life than sex, San," Sebastian grumbled.

Santana threw up a hand. "And you, Killer, need to figure out that just because you aren't getting any doesn't mean the world revolves around people painting rainbows and weaving baskets."

About halfway through Santana's comeback, Kurt's phone went off again. He reached for it, hoping to pull it out while Sebastian and Santana got into another squabble and ignored him, but no such luck. Sebastian grabbed his wrist as he pulled his phone into his lap.

"Would you stop distracting us? It seems that Kurtsie here was about to tune us out."

Santana plucked the phone out of the hand held fast by Sebastian. "You know, for once in your life, you may be right. And it looks like there was a person involved yesterday."

Kurt made an indignant squawk as Sebastian leaned into his lap to look at the screen Santana offered him.

"Who's Coffee Mate, Kurt? Your girlfriend?" Santana asked over her shoulder.

"Would you be quiet?" Kurt flushed, glancing nervously at Carl. He wasn't sure how much Terri had told him about Kurt's personal life; Kurt didn't want him overhearing anything if he was nothing knowing. Santana rolled her eyes again, but pulled Sebastian closer to the center so they could continue talking.

"Jesus 'Tana, can you not read? Blaine's a boy. It's not even spelled in a girly way."

"I didn't realize there were multiple ways to spell Blaine, Killer."

Sebastian tugged harshly on Santana's pony tail in retaliation for the nickname. "Of course there are. I met a b-l-a-y-n-e Blayne who gave great head a couple summers ago—"

Kurt took Santana's moment of disgusted side-eyeing Sebastian to lean in between them and take his phone back. "Do tell about your Blayne, Seb. Even though you just said there's more to life than sex." He said as checked his phone again. Wonder of wonders, Blaine finally replied:

**Coffee Mate [01:34pm]:** Sorry! Sorry. I didn't forget about you. I got an eyeful of bad stuff and Rachel attempted to drag me to the hospital to make sure I didn't go blind. I managed to leave my phone here; I just got it back…

**Coffee Mate [1:35pm]:** and yes, I can "do food" soon, as you so gracefully put it.

**Coffee Mate [01:35pm]:** can I just take a minute to say that the subways are even *more*terrifying during the lunch rush?

"No such luck. You're the one who went MIA and apparently met a friend. Plus I told you all about him before you got the record deal, remember?"

Kurt thought back to sophomore year, and tiny baby-faced him blushing as Sebastian went over the things his soul-mate-of-the-month had done with him while they were travelling the French countryside. Kurt had blushed; he hadn't known people were capable of those kinds of things. Kurt wasn't sure what bothered him more—the fact that his new friend had little to no filter, or the fact that he really, really, really wanted to try the kind of things this Blayne was reported of being able to do. Kurt remembered that Blayne. He was the reason Kurt started accepting the fact that he was gay.

"No, can't say that I do." Kurt lied, shooting a reply to Blaine while he answered Sebastian, hoping to whatever ruled the universe the car was dim enough his blush wouldn't be visible.

**Ohmigod [1:40pm]:** it's what I do. The subway did seem especially bad then. I'd recommend a taxi, but those can get expensive. Also, great. Lunch?

Santana watched as Kurt hit send; he had the sneaking suspicion that she had been reading over his shoulder, but the text was completely innocent.

"And you're an expert on the city now, big boy?" she asked.

"No." She arched her eyebrow at him, staring until he looked away, uncomfortable. But Sebastian was waiting on the other side.

"Then what did you learn about the city yesterday, Padawan?" Sebastian asked.

Santana snorted. "Did you really just make a Star Wars reference?"

"Lopez, if you don't get off my back I swear on whatever you manage to find holy you'll regret the day you met me."

Santana chuckled darkly. "Already do, Smythe."

"Kurt…" Sebastian made a grab for Kurt's hair, which he deflected before giving an annoyed sigh.

"Alright already! I didn't do anything special. Wandered Times Square, ran over Blaine, went to coffee, then I found food and a couple museums to look at. Regular stuff. Satisfied?" Kurt shrugged, sighing again. That was basically it. They didn't need to know about the late-night dinner trip with Blaine; Kurt wanted to keep at least some of his day to himself, since that was the whole point of the day.

"No. You _ran over him_?" Santana demanded. "What the hell does that even _mean_?"

"Didn't we teach you better than that?" Sebastian said.

Kurt scoffed. "He was backing out of a shop and I didn't see him. Coffee went everywhere..." and Kurt wound up on top of him, staring into startlingly complicated eyes. Wondering why he didn't cause an immediate fuss and wanting to learn more about him.

"What kind of idiot backs out of a shop in New York?" Sebastian snickered.

"Wrong question." Santana replied, reaching over to flick Sebastian's ear. "You should be asking what kind of idiot gets international fame, then runs away from the people who help get him there, meets some random-assed person, and then wanders the city alone without answering his phone, keeping everyone worried about him."

Around the time she started talking about meeting a random person, Santana had turned her fingernails to the nearest part of Kurt she could reach, harshly flicking at his earlobe every couple of words. Kurt squirmed, unable to get anywhere, wondering why the hell Carl hadn't looked into the backseat and tried to stop any of the abuse Kurt's so-called friends were heaping on him and each other.

Despite their crassness and overwhelming questions, Kurt knew they meant well. They were the first kids who reached out to him when he and Terri first arrived in New York. Well, Sebastian was the first, practically adopting the cocky underclassman with an eye for fashion trends and an unusual voice. Sebastian claimed his gay-dar managed to pick Kurt out when he was three hours outside New York's City limits, and he knew he had to protect the smaller gay from whatever he would get himself into; Kurt could almost guarantee Sebastian settled for friendship after his attempts at picking Kurt up failed miserably. Sebastian had barely shown Kurt the ropes before Santana came barreling onto Kurt's path, not as literally as Kurt had to Blaine, but demanding to know where he thought he got off taking her spot outside the corner bodega for performing after classes. She then proceeded to correct Kurt on his performance style before saying he actually had talent and demanding to be his first official groupie; she changed her self-appointed position to body guard after Sebastian wrapped Kurt possessively in his arms while saying _he_ was Kurt's first groupie and Santana punched him in the solar plexus.

So they both had Kurt's best interests at heart, Kurt assumed. It just seemed hard to tell when they were too busy pretending that they hated each other.

It was painfully obvious every time Kurt did something screwy, which he should have remembered before he snuck out for a day of sightseeing. He was mentally kicking himself for forgetting about his friends—friends who were staring him down with more intensity than was probably necessary for the back of a Chrysler Town and Country.

Oh, right. Santana had asked him one of her roundabout questions.

"Me, okay? I thought we covered that? I'm an idiot, I've been successfully chewed out by you all and Terri; no more fun for Kurt, alright?"

They were satisfied enough with his answer to both retreat into their phones, starting what Kurt could only guess was a twitter argument from the way Santana would bark out a laugh and Sebastian would let out an annoyed huff.

Kurt gave them a few moments to get further immersed in technology before breaking out his own phone and sending a text of his own:

**Ohmigod [1:45pm]:** i'm assuming you're busy…i'm nearly to the studio. Is next wednesday ok?

**Coffee Mate [1:46pm]:** not busy; didn't know when worked for you. Wednesday, yeah. I can make that happen. Send me a time and i'll be wherever!

Kurt gave a tiny smile and resisted the urge to twitch his feet excitedly; revealing more than his first couple of teeth could alert the terrors on either side of him to the fact that he was thinking up another plan for meeting Blaine in the City of Dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>So this chapter wasn't actually in my outline. Like, at all. A good majority of the Klaine stuff? Supposed to be at the end of chapter 7. Don't ask me how it happened, but here it is; I'm hoping that the fact that I spent too long trying to make it fit where I wanted it instead of just letting it happen is what made it take so long…sorry again. Please feel free to verbally abuse me until the next chapter is out.<strong>

**Anyway, that's Chapter 8! It was reviewed by my new beta ****I-Dream-To-Dream1613 here on ****! So everybody give her a round of applause or internet hugs or something. I can now happily say that grammatical errors are only 60% my fault anymore :)**


	9. It's a Small World After All, Part I

**Hello there! Jess here (obviously. Who else would it be?)**

**No real warnings for this chapter that I can think of, but a gentle reminder that this is an AU and I reserved the right to pick, choose, and modify events from canon back in chapter 1. See the ending Author's notes for thanks and things of that nature…go read now!**

Blaine had always considered himself to be a very patient person. You had to be, with an oncologic surgeon for a mother and a Hospital executive for a father; they would promise and plan, but Blaine learned to wait on their actual follow through, if they ever did. His brother was also one for promises that took forever to be fulfilled. Blaine had waited to be taught to ride a bike, to take his first trip to the zoo; for birthday parties and outings to do things he wanted instead of sitting through another one of Cooper's art shows. Waiting was just something Blaine _did._

But waiting out the five days to his lunch with Kurt was _torture_. There was usually Rachel there to ignore or escort around town, but she had been spending more time out in the city alone than she had initially planned. The morning after Kurt set the lunch date, Cooper made mention of an actor he was doing headshots for. After an onslaught of demanding and pleading from Rachel, he agreed to let her go to the appointment. Blaine chose to stay back that day, taking a much-needed Rach-cation; he updated his tumblr and took another spin around to his favorite shops in East Chelsea without her incessant chatter and random bursts of song. It had been nice for him, but not so for Cooper: Rachel managed to get around his watch and talk with the actor. She learned, apparently, that the actor knew a guy who knew a girl who dated this waiter who knew the secretary for the NYADA admissions board, who said there was going to be a Mixer on the eleventh at the Producer's Theatre. Armed with that roundabout information, Rachel had drilled Cooper for more of his connections and secured a practice room on Columbia's campus, where she was rehearsing every showtune she could imagine, looking for the right one to impress the NYADA representatives who would be in the crowd. She was, consequently, uptown every day, and so focused on her task that Blaine didn't see her until he had to go drag her bodily from her practice room.

Rachel's being gone freed up a good chunk of Blaine's time; there was only so much wandering he was willing to do by himself, and he had told Kurt as much over their texting conversations. So Kurt kept him entertained with random snippets about his days, which were getting more and more hectic as the kickoff concert at Madison Square Garden drew nearer. Blaine would get texts:

**Ohmigod [12:32pm]:** people wouldn't mind if i sold my left leg to a guy who says he can get me out of choreo, right?

**Ohmigod [12:33pm]:** i mean, the whole song-and-dance-hummel thing *should* be completely overrated.

When choreography rehearsals were running long and Kurt had a couple seconds to spare during a water break. Blaine would laugh, wonder what exactly who the choreographer was –rumor had it Kurt's people landed the legendary Sue Sylvester, but no-one in Kurt's fandom could find a definite answer and Blaine wasn't about to intrude on Kurt's professional life unless Kurt himself brought it up—and text back reassurances that things were going to go fine once they staged everything he was practicing. It was still surreal, the fact that he _knew Kurt Hummel and was texting him every day._ So very, very strange and exciting to Blaine, who didn't have the largest number of friends back in Lima, and worked hard to keep his head down as the only kid to out himself at McKinley. Having this complete stranger decide he liked him enough to talk to him every day put Blaine on top of the world.

At least, until he checked his phone and saw there was still time until he got to see Kurt in person again. He would note the day as he woke up with a groan; _four days __until_, _three, _then _two, _and eventually _one_, which Blaine watched arrive in the corner of his laptop screen while writing an email to his mother. No sooner had the clock turned to midnight on July 8, Blaine let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and his computer opened its internet browser to his Facebook page, where Cooper had sent him an instant message.

**Cooper Anderson**: oh good, you're on.

**Blaine Anderson:** Indeed I am. Can I help you?

**Cooper Anderson:** yes, actually; clear your schedule for today.

**Blaine Anderson:** There's this thing called context…? If you could give me some, that'd be great, Coop.

**Cooper Anderson:** but see,

**Cooper Anderson:** if I told you,

**Cooper Anderson: **I'd have to kill you. Maybe.

**Blaine Anderson:** COOPER.

**Cooper Anderson:** BLAINERS.

**Cooper Anderson: **just do it…

**Blaine Anderson:** And what if I had something majorly important to do today? What would you do then?

**Cooper Anderson:** what I'm apperently having to do now.

**Cooper Anderson:** bring out hte big guns.

**Blaine Anderson:** *apparently, *the

**Cooper Anderson:** I was getting there…

**Blaine Anderson:** You wouldn't

**Cooper Anderson:** I can and I will. ABD *aaaaaaalllllll day* tomorrow.

**Blaine Anderson: **:(

**Cooper Anderson:** Don't you angry face at me, young man. You'll thank me in the morning.

**Cooper Anderson:** Remember: schedule. Clear. All. Day.

Blaine blinked at the screen, torn between wanting to put his face in his hands and screaming; _of course_ his brother would demand an ABD—Anderbros Bonding Day—once Blaine had concrete plans not involving rush tickets or museum tours.

ABDs were one of the things Cooper invented to keep Blaine feeling relevant to his life once Cooper headed off to Columbia for his undergrad work. Every long break Cooper could get home for, he would keep a day or two completely free to hang out with Blaine, which Blaine had thought was just the coolest thing when he was nine and really missing his older brother's crazy energy. They didn't even have to do anything special; Cooper would dedicate a full 24 hours to spending time with Blaine, teaching him things their parents were too busy to begin or letting Blaine stay up way past his bedtime watching scary movies. When Blaine was smaller, ABDs could make him jump out of bed with obscene amounts of energy. He would fly through his morning routine and bother Halida, the housekeeper Blaine's parents hired once Cooper moved out and it was discovered nine-year-olds were hopeless when it came to taking care of houses, with speculations about what Coop would have planned when he woke up. Blaine _lived_ for ABDs then. He didn't even mind waiting the long stretches of time between Cooper's breaks, because he could live off the memories he made with his cooler older brother for months. Plus the gaps were long enough Blaine could work off whatever punishment he gained because of the last ABD and his parents would forget about the fact that Cooper was the one who had gotten Blaine grounded in the first place.

Up until Blaine turned 15, ABDs were a huge deal. But once the family got situated in Lima and Blaine made his handful of friends, they were more of a hassle. Cooper would plan one, and Blaine would have to pass because of sectionals, or regionals, or work on a really-big-group-project; Cooper then proceeded to mope about the house, complaining that he never got to "play with his Blainey" anymore. Blaine would spend a couple minutes feeling bad about abandoning Cooper, but he was growing up; his big brother couldn't be the center of the world anymore.

Blaine shuddered to think of the kind of guilt trip Cooper would put him on if he turned down an ABD in the town he'd grown to call home over the last eight years. So, unfortunately, it looked like Blaine had a cleared schedule.

Now he just had to tell Kurt.

It seemed like something he needed to do in a more personal way than through a text message, but he didn't have Kurt's email, and something told him that trying to get his attention over twitter would be an even stupider idea than texting him. So there was only one thing to do.

He grabbed his phone, scrolled down to Kurt's number in his contacts, and pressed _Call_.

* * *

><p>It had been another long day for Kurt; fittings, interviews, and a grueling rehearsal made him wonder if he'd even have the energy to meet Blaine for lunch the next day. He checked his phone as he let himself and Ken into his apartment. Midnight.<p>

Oh. So he'd be meeting Blaine for lunch in about twelve hours. That was cool. He needed to get to bed before Holly came by for Pilates, and so he would have some semblance of common sense to finish his obligations with Terri and everyone. And so, you know, he didn't do anything stupid at lunch. He didn't want to get recognized, after all.

He took a second to make sure Ken was settled before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower and to run through his skin care regime. He was drying off, just about to step out of the shower, when his ringtone sounded from somewhere in the floor. Kurt quickly fished it out of his jeans, wondering who could be calling him after midnight. He wasn't sure how long it had been ringing, so he accepted the call without checking to see who it was.

"Hello?" Kurt said. If he heard Terri or Roz respond he would do his best to appease them and end the call as quickly and painlessly as possible.

A couple seconds of someone clearing their throat before the voice on the other line sounded.

"Uhm, hi. Kurt?"

"Maybe." Kurt began tousling his hair with the towel, drying methodically to avoid tangles. "May I ask who is calling?"

"It's Blaine."

"Well, hello stranger!" Kurt was genuinely surprised to hear from him; they usually talked over text messages. What had changed so that Blaine wanted to call? "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Lunch, actually…" Even through the speaker on Kurt's phone, Blaine sounded acutely uncomfortable.

"What about it?" Kurt worked to keep his tone light and professional, wondering if Ken would get suspicious if he continued the phone conversation in the steamy bathroom.

"My brother decided to pull a family gathering card and wants me to clear my schedule for the day, which would include lunch. It's for this…really lame bonding thing we do sometimes. I feel awful, but is it too late to take a rain check? I know that'd be kind of hard, considering."

Kurt stopped drying his hair, torn. He didn't want to be the one coming between Blaine and his brother's bonding (which sounded like it could be more fun than a hurried lunch with a disguised celebrity), but this was the last free afternoon Kurt would have before the tour officially launched. He mentioned as much to Blaine, who let out a sigh, apparently thinking it over.

"I don't really want to go," his voice sounded muffled, like he was turned away from the phone with something as he spoke. "But he's pulled this event we used to have and I can't just turn it down without consequences."

Kurt's interest was piqued. Blaine kept avoiding what it was called, and now Kurt wanted to know. He walked out of the bathroom to his room, resolutely ignoring Ken, who was pretending not to watch him as he walked up the short hallway. "What's this 'thing'? It seems like you're scared of telling me what it is…"

Blaine sighed into the receiver. "Because it's stupid, and you're probably going to think I'm making it up. It's really nothing; just something we've been doing since before he came here for school."

Kurt chuckled and shut his bedroom door, moving to sit at his vanity to start his moisturizing regimen. "Try me."

"He calls them ABDs—Anderbros Bonding Days." Blaine admitted. "He picks something for us to do all day, and we do it. Lots of hilarity ensues at my expense. They're really not as interesting as he makes them out to be."

"They sound adorable." Kurt replied, switching his phone over to his earpiece. That done, he opened his first bottle of cream.

"I'd rather go to lunch." There was a petulant edge to Blaine's voice; Kurt could imagine him gearing up for a pout, setting his jaw and minutely sticking out that lush lower lip…wait, what? O_kay, focus_, Kurt mentally chastised himself. Blaine was still talking. Something about a chinchilla getting caught in a parasail while they were vacationing, maybe?

"Basically, whenever there's an ABD, _I'm_ the one who winds up in trouble. That's the way it is with Cooper."

"I can see why you'd want to skip out on it, then." Kurt consoled. Blaine made a noise Kurt took to be affirmation, and continued.

"Maybe there's a way to get him to agree to a _partial_ day? Like, you meet in the morning and break for the afternoon or something? That way he gets his—what was it, 'Anderbros'?—and we still get to meet up. _And_ you may not wind up being together long enough to get in trouble."

"I hadn't thought of that." Blaine said after a moment of hesitation. "I guess I can text him and see."

"Sounds good. Let me know what he says, okay?"

Blaine agreed, hanging up the phone to contact this brother of his. Kurt took out his earpiece and focused on finishing his regime. After all, there wasn't anything he could do now apart from wait for a response and hope for the best.

* * *

><p><strong>Blainers [12:25am]:<strong> Coop.

**Blainers [12:32am]:** COOPER.

**Blainers [12:35am]:** JACOB COOPER ANDERSON!

**Sparky McFlashpants [12:36am]: **jesus, *what*?

**Blainers [12:37am]:** Is there any way we can take, like, a lunch break from the ABD? For an hour or two in the afternoon?

**Sparky McFlashpants [12:38am]: **and interrupt the fun? i think not, unless you have a really good reason?

**Blainers [12:39am]:** I made plans that are going to be impossible to reschedule. They *have* to happen this afternoon.

**Sparky McFlashpants [12:42am]: **can I get some details, please?

**Blainers [12:43am]:** but see,

**Blainers [12:43am]:**if I told you,

**Blainers [12:43am]:** I'd have to kill you. Maybe.

**Sparky McFlashpants [12:44am]: **ah ha haa, smartass. You forget that I give permission for things.

**Sparky McFlashpants [12:44am]: **no deets, no deal.

Blaine groaned. Of course he would be obstinate about an ABD. Of. Course. They hadn't had one in what, eight months? Cooper was probably feeling robbed or something. And Blaine couldn't tell him what was going on, since he's going out with a celebrity who was probably planning on sneaking away from his entourage (again.)So resigned, Blaine shot one last round of texts:

**Blainers [12:46am]:** Fine. what time do I need to be ready?

**Coffee Mate [12:47am]:**It's a no-go for tomorrow; he won't budge and I don't think I'd be able to sneak off without some kind of punishment…

Blaine sighed while setting his alarm and going to bed, already upset by a day that hadn't even started

* * *

><p><strong>I feel like this is short, but forgive me! More is on the way—I'm actually splitting this chapter into parts for faster updates.<strong>

**And now: announcements. There are a lot of them. I will learn to shut up eventually.**

**Tumblr (particularly Neaf [shotgunanderson, even though she has no idea who I am] and Emily [twobirdsonesong, ditto]) are credited for **_**Anderbros**_**. And to my beta, I-Dream-To-Dream1613 for giving everything a once-over! We'll have another beta friend soon, but I really want to move along with publishing, since I've got another week with no work scheduled.**

**And, a momentary plug for the Klaine Tiny Bang over on Livejournal. If you haven't gotten a chance to look there and see if you want to give or fill a prompt, go go go! Prompting and Author sign-ups end June 30 at 11:59pm, EST (I think.) The Tiny Bang is the same as the Big Bangs that fly around fandom, only fewer words are required—like, 5K at the minimum. I'm filling one, and I'm really excited to write it out over the next 2 months and show it to everyone! Since it's Klaine, it'll go up on Scarves and Coffee once it's back up, as well as to livejournal and here on , should you want to see it.**

**Lastly a plug to come talk to me on tumblr, as I am very lonely over there at .com and would LOVE some new friends. If you come over in the next week or so and drop an ask or submission (or leave a review here) comparing and contrasting Darren and Matt, you *may* have a contribution to an upcoming segment…but that's all I have to say on that.**

**See you soon!**


	10. It's a Small World After All, Part II

**Seems like that last chapter sneaked under everyone's radars—it was really quiet on all the sites. If you've tracked this somehow, thanks so much for that! And if you did catch this update by chance, let me know what you're thinking?**

Cooper arrived at the hostel bright and early Wednesday morning, lugging a camera case over his shoulder and wheeling a very large case full of what Blaine assumed was his lighting equipment. Blaine sat morosely on the steps, weeding through the mess that was his twitter feed on his phone. Apparently someone had gotten wind that Kurt's day of adventure wasn't the 'sick day' his people spun it off as. Speculation was running wild as to where Kurt had actually been. Blaine smiled a tiny bit as he moved up his timeline at the theories, which got more and more ridiculous as the news spread. Cooper cleared his throat to get Blaine's attention, and the amused smile fell from his face, replaced by a look of calculated indifference.

"Don't act so happy to see me, B." Cooper said as he pulled Blaine in for an awkward, rather uncomfortable hug. Blaine threw an arm around Cooper, still wary of what exactly he had planned.

"I'd be happier if I had some kind of idea where you were dragging me at 7 in the morning."

"But it would absolutely _ruin_the surprise!" Cooper cried, turning to the sidewalk and attempting to flag down a taxi.

Blaine took a moment as a cab stopped for them to smarmily think the ABD was more of an 'unfortunate development' no matter how Cooper chose to spin it before opening the door for his brother. Cooper situated his things, having to bargain a discount when the driver tried to tack on a fee for the rolling case, before giving the directions; then they were off, wading through the early traffic to a street Blaine thought was in Clinton.

Cooper made attempts at stilted conversation as they rode uptown; he tried to get Blaine to fill him in on what he had been up to sans Rachel, but stopped once Blaine reminded him they covered his adventures at lunch Monday past, and events hadn't changed in the two days since. Cooper then chose to fill the silence by talking to the cabbie. They learned he was Abed from Saudi Arabia, with five kids and a wife looking to get into NYU for nursing. Blaine spent the ride looking out the window and trying not to pry any more into Abed's life.

They eventually left Abed and his cab, disembarking in front of another glass-and-steel skyscraper. Blaine looked up; where in the world could a photographer and his kid brother be useful in _there_?

Cooper rapped his hand lightly against Blaine's hair, drawing his attention.

"If we go inside, you'll see why we're here, you know," he said good-naturedly.

Blaine gave a little bow. "Lead on, good sir," he prompted; they started moving, quickly becoming too busy trying to drag Coop's equipment through the revolving doors for Blaine to notice _Prosper Talent & Entertainment_ engraved on a metal plaque attached to the building.

He did notice the entryway once Cooper and his things were clear. Nearly every surface was marble, glass accents lining the counters and creating strangely shaped conversation pieces in the corners and on the ceiling. Lining the walls were framed photos, posters, and magazine articles; the agency's 'success cases' were pictured, smiling and posing for movie promotions, photo shoots, and publicity events.

Blaine was even more confused. ABDs were lazy days in parks, where they would feed birds and talk until pieces of bread "miraculously" wound up stuck to the back of Blaine's shirt and he got run down by pigeons. They were trips to shopping centers that until the first Duran Duran song started playing and Cooper and Blaine got thrown out for disturbing the peace.

They were_not_ early morning jaunts to spotless marble lobbies with weird art and famous people on the walls.

Cooper walked up to a receptionist and handed her a card Blaine hadn't seen before.

"I'm the photographer for the _Fire and Ice_session today?" he said. Something tinged in the back of Blaine's mind. _Where_ had he heard that before?

The receptionist took a second to give Cooper an obvious once-over, and Blaine could practically feel Cooper preening; he knew he was handsome, and while he was totally devoted to his girlfriend, he also believed heavily in shameless flirtation.

"We just need you two to sign in here, and then go check in at the security window." The receptionist said, handing Cooper a clipboard. He took it, grazing her hand in the process, and signed it with a flourish and a wink before handing it off to Blaine. When Blaine handed the papers back to her, Cooper shoved the camera bag on his shoulder into Blaine's empty hands and reached for his wallet. The receptionist couldn't see what Cooper was up to; thinking them lost, she stood to give directions and conveniently displaying what Blaine thought was supposed to be a very nice body. Cooper grabbed her hand with his free one and patted it gently.

"You know, I've done plenty of shoots for Prosper. We'll be fine; but thank you for being so helpful." He withdrew a business card from his wallet and Blaine had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Leave it to Cooper to plug his business whenever he could.

"I bet a beautiful young lady such as yourself is looking to go into the business." She flushed and nodded as he looked her over, managing to come across as making a professional evaluation instead of being a leering creep.

"Well then, if you should ever need photos done, give me a call. I could even point you in the direction of some casting calls…" Another wink as he handed her the card and then he tugged Blaine down the hallway, leaving the receptionist staring after them as if Cooper were the answer to her prayers. Blaine shot him a glance once they were a safe distance away.

"What?" Cooper shrugged. "She was new; wearing an outfit like that, she's _begging_ one of the managing partners to notice her. Dunno what she wants to do, but she's gonna need pictures, and who am I to turn away a potential customer?"

Blaine snorted, and then stopped short of running into Cooper as they arrived at a window labeled 'Security'.

"Hey, Jake," greeted the man at the window. Blaine looked around; who was Jake?

"How's it going, Brendan?" Cooper asked, flashing the card he'd shown the receptionist. Apparently, Jake was Cooper. Coop must go by his first name for work, Blaine figured.

"Pretty good, considering; haven't had to chase down any rabid fans lately. Which shoot are you doing today?" Brendan ducked down for a moment before coming back up with two badges. He checked them over before sliding them through to them.

"Del Monico's, huh?" that same feeling went off in the back of Blaine's head—there was something going on here that he should have figured out by now, but _what_?

"As usual. I think they're almost done with everything though. Can't say I'll be sad to have this contract expire…" Cooper attached his badge to his shirt and handed the other one to Blaine.

"Almost forgot—this is my little brother. He's helping out today. You need his ID?" Blaine reached for his wallet as Cooper asked, wondering why Brendan hadn't asked for it earlier.

"How old are you, kid?" Brendan asked.

"Seventeen."

"He's with you, and he's got a badge, so he's fine." Brendan shrugged. "No funny business from you though. Your brother must've signed a waiver to get you in here."

Blaine nodded and began moving toward the elevators gleaming at the end of the hallway. Cooper got confirmation on the location before joining him and pressing the elevator call button.

"What are you waiting for? Put the badge on," Cooper prompted. Blaine complied, adjusting his shirt around the tag's weight.

"I'm still confused as to why I'm here;" Blaine complained. "I thought this was an ABD, not 'take your brother to work' day."

"And I'm still telling you it's a surprise. Although," he coughed delicately as people joined them in waiting for the elevator, "it's not _technically_ an ABD." Blaine puffed up, indignant; Cooper held up a staying hand. "You weren't going to come if I didn't call it that. And we're still going to be spending time together…"

"So you pull a phony ABD because you knew I had plans I didn't want to get out of?" Blaine hissed, mindful of the people around them and not wanting to cause a very big scene. This was close to sacrilege as far as Blaine was concerned. Like telling your boss your grandmother died so you can go to a concert or something. Abuse of privilege. But even though Blaine was really upset, a very small part of him was impressed Cooper managed to think of that on his own. But that part of him was miniscule compared to the part of him that wanted to make his brother extremely sorry he'd wasted his afternoon.

"You're mad now. And I completely understand. But I promise it'll be worth it." Cooper said.

The elevator chose then to arrive, and they crowded on. Cooper gave their floor to someone near the buttons and settled in beside Blaine, ignoring the dirty looks people were giving them because of their luggage. Blaine was oblivious to the stares as well, whipping out his phone as the elevator began to rise.

**Coffee Mate [8:45am]:** my entire morning has been a lie. ABD a ruse.

**Ohmigod [8:46am]:** that's awful! Tell him that for me. I was looking forward to lunch all week :(

**Coffee Mate [8:47am]:** i know. He says I'm going to forgive him tho; not sure yet; he's got me working for him…

**Ohmigod [8:48am]:** it's a trap! don't trust him! i'd say abort mission but you're kind of stuck wherever you are now…

Blaine sighed and put his phone back in his pocket, scooting over to let the last group of people off at the twenty-seventh floor. Once the doors closed, he rounded on Cooper.

"We're almost there." Cooper promised, eyes on the floor ticker, ignoring Blaine's scowl.

Finally, the elevator stopped and Cooper got off, beckoning Blaine to follow. He stepped out and walked down the hallway to an oversized door labeled 'FIRE AND ICE: THE KURT HUMMEL EXPERIENCE PHOTO SHOOT IN PROGRESS—AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.'

Blaine choked on the breath he was taking, mind taking off in about a million different directions as he tried to process what was going on. He really wanted to kick his brother for not just _telling_ him, but then Cooper didn't know Blaine had already met Kurt and thinking about it, none of Kurt's people would know either. So they would have to play it cool, the question was _how_? Kurt had no idea they were meeting today, either. And even it Blaine were being introduced to Kurt for the first time, how in the _hell_ would Cooper expect Blaine to be any help at all?

Blaine snapped to with Cooper's fingers waving in his face.

"You okay there, Blainey?"

"Oh my god." Blaine muttered. "Coop. Oh. My. God…" What the hell was he going to do and how much damage would it cause?

Cooper grinned, mistaking Blaine's inner panic attack with a fanboy breakdown. And in a sense, he was right, except Blaine was having a breakdown over his plan to fake a fanboy breakdown if he was expected to "meet" Kurt.

"Figured you'd change your mind." He said smugly before opening the door to a cacophony of light and sound. Blaine followed, still wondering how in the hell this was going to play out.

Cooper maneuvered them around the scaffolding and technicians to a table where a frazzled-looking but attractive—like, ridiculously so—Hispanic man stood overlooking schematics and talking into a walkie-talkie. He set his papers down and scowled at Cooper and Blaine as they approached.

"Anderson, you're late."

"Am not. I got told to be here at nine thirty; it's barely nine now. I can have my cameras in place and ready to go in fifteen," Cooper replied.

Blaine took the moment to look around. The studio was mostly bleak cement and iron supports, but set up in various corners were painted backdrops, designed to look like…well, fire and ice. Men and women were darting around, adjusting light sources, setting up more backgrounds, and organizing prop tables. Blaine thought he saw a stuffed polar bear over by the ice set, but he wasn't too sure—maybe it was a really big pile of fake snow, or something. Everything was big, loud, and stressful and Blaine had only been _watching_ people work for a couple of minutes. How did Kurt deal with it every day?

Done being briefed on the agenda, Cooper nudged Blaine in the shoulder and led him to the Ice set Blaine had been studying. Yes, that was a giant polar bear. Thank goodness Rachel wasn't there; a long-winded lecture on animal rights would be the thing that caused Blaine to have the breakdown he was on the edge of.

"We're supposed to set up here for now. You remember how to do the equipment?" Blaine nodded. "Good. So we'll get this together, and then let Terri know we're here."

"Terri?" Blaine asked, reaching to unzip the bag and pull out the camera. Cooper nodded while unlocking the case.

"Del Monico. Hummel's manager. I've been his photographer since he came to New—Blaine!"

Cooper pulled off a spectacular dive, managing to save the camera just as it slipped from Blaine's limp fingers. He cradled it to his chest as he stood again, glaring murderously at Blaine.

"Would you be careful? This is expensive equipment…"

"You've literally known Kurt for _years_ and this is the first time I've heard about it?" Blaine demanded. "Like, seriously? Cooper, _what the hell_?" He was desperately trying to not pace now and beyond worried. The only person who knew Blaine's reactions better than Blaine himself was probably Cooper. He would definitely know there was something up if he and Kurt didn't act enough like awesome and complete strangers.

"Well excuse me for not wanting to be hounded for his autograph by one obsessed little brother." Cooper said, putting the camera back in the case and pushing Blaine to the case. "No more handling the cameras for you. Set up the tripods and try not to break anything, okay?"

Once again, there wasn't a way around it that Blaine could see. He reached for his pocket when Cooper turned back around, grabbed his phone, and fired off a text to Kurt:

**Coffee Mate [9:10am]:**remember how I told you I couldn't do lunch because my brother was taking me somewhere?

He hoped he'd be able to break the news gently enough Kurt wouldn't start freaking out as badly as he was. He checked his replies after he got the tripod standing

**Ohmigod [9:11am]:** rub it in, why don't you? :P

**Coffee Mate [9:15am]:**three guesses where I am

It took him a minute to help Cooper get everything in place, but finally everything was arranged to Cooper's satisfaction. Blaine was trying his hardest not to be sick all over their setup and hoped Cooper would mistake it for nervous excitement and not mindless terror. He wasn't even sure what he was scared about; he just had the feeling if anybody figured out he and Kurt knew each other it would be _bad_.

"Very nice; we've got about thirty minutes 'til we're supposed to start." Cooper said, glancing at his watch. "What do you say we go say hello to Terri and Kurt? Hope you brought your autograph book…"

And with that, Cooper began walking towards the door. Blaine followed, getting more and more anxious as they left the studio and moved up the hallway to another set of doors marked with different names on them, and _holy shit Kurt's entire band was there, and his backup singers and dancers._ Blaine was going to see all of them. All of them.

They reached the last door on the hallway—Kurt's—and Blaine checked his phone desperately before Cooper opened the door. He needed to warn Kurt…

**Ohmigod [9:16am]:** it's kind of a big city, Blaine.

**Coffee Mate [9:20am]:**not big enough. hope you know how to improv…

He took an ineffective calming breath as Cooper knocked on the door. A moment later, a stern looking blonde opened the door, and Blaine prepared himself for the worst.

**Guys, I really don't have the attention span for the whole "write-a-chapter-in-a-day" thing. I have learned this, since that is how this chapter came about. It was painful, and I'm about to do the same thing again a couple times next week…but hopefully it will give us a bit of a buffer for updates, hmm?**


	11. It's a Small World After All, Part III

_EDIT: went back over the chapter only to realize I'd missed all my beta's notes; this is the corrected version. Don't upload chapters in 24-hour diners when surrounded by friends, kids. Confusion happens._

**Hello! I have returned, finally. Sorry about the wait! **

**It's been like a month, I'm not gonna talk you to death right here. Read, and let me know what you think, okay?**

Kurt had been feeling excited about seeing his entire performance entourage together. They were the people closest to him in age, after all; a good portion of his time on tour would be spent sitting with them on planes, in buses, and onstage. He had gotten Terri to call them all for the final shoot so they could officially meet each other and see how well they would get along.

When Terri agreed to letting them all come to the shoot, Kurt thought they would all be in the same room, or at be least able to go somewhere to talk. But as soon as Kurt had arrived, Terri whisked him away into his own private, overly-large dressing room, where a slowly waking Giulia and her fashion flunkies were waiting to slap ungodly amounts of makeup and effects on his face. He was forced to sit still and let Terri guide the gang in as if they were visiting an inmate; each group of three got five minutes before they were whisked away to make room for the next trio. The only two who were allowed to remain past their visiting time were Santana and Sebastian, who had been causing enough of a ruckus in their dressing room the tour's Publicity Director was forced to move them where Carl could keep an eye out for unnecessary violence. At the moment they were annoying Ronan-the-makeup-applier, making up verdicts about his application sponges and demanding he explain why he doesn't use some grassroots, organic, extremely expensive brand.

Going by the way Sebastian was staring at Ronan's lithe form and smirking at the flustered blush rising on his cheeks, Kurt figured they were working an elaborate setup. If Ronan and Sebastian wound up going to a club Friday night to 'discuss the various methods of makeup application', Kurt would not be surprised.

Ronan pounced on Santana as she stuck her fingers in a pot of foundation just as Kurt's phone vibrated against his leg.

**Coffee Mate [8:45am]: **my entire morning has been a lie. ABD's a ruse.

Kurt took a second for an inner complaint (_how _dare _Blaine's brother lie to him like that!_) before replying.

**Ohmigod [8:46am]: **that's awful! Tell him that for me. I was looking forward to lunch all week :(

It had been disappointing, seeing Blaine have to cancel their lunch plans, but Kurt guessed he understood. If he had a little brother he hardly saw because they were hours apart, when they were in the same city, he would want to spend time with him. Didn't make it suck any less, Kurt figured. Now his last free afternoon was going to be spent with Roz and whichever of the stalkers Terri put on duty. Ken was his usual night watchman; sitting in front of the television and guarding both the front door and the emergency exit on the commercial breaks. Carl was his day watchman; more alert and able to fend off paparazzi and fans, he was harder for Kurt to get away from. Not that he really wanted to escape again.

That wasn't true. He would have gotten away that afternoon if he was eating lunch with Blaine. But he wasn't now, so escape plans were useless. And adding insult to injury, the afternoon out he had planned was cancelled on account of a lie.

**Coffee Mate [8:47am]: **i know. He says I'm going to forgive him tho; not sure yet; he's got me working for him…

Understanding of Blaine's brother's predicament or not, Kurt wasn't sure _he _was going to forgive him for taking away the last really fun thing Kurt had been looking forward to.

**Ohmigod [8:48am]: **it's a trap! don't trust him! i'd say abort mission but you're kind of stuck wherever you are now…

Kurt could get lucky and Blaine would be able to text in between whatever his brother had him doing…an empty hope, perhaps, but it proved plenty of distraction as Marissa descended on his hair with a can of hairspray and exacting directions from Giulia. They could meet for dinner, after Kurt made some kind of brilliant dash in the opposite direction from his minders, maybe.

They were thin plans, wisps of fancy that floated by with every pass of the aerosol can over his coiffed, silver-dusted hair, but they were much more enjoyable than remembering Terri, who had managed to loom over him while Kurt was lost in thought.

"Has the shoot manager come in to talk to you?"

"Nobody's come in since the last group you practically cavity scanned." Santana answered, earning a glare from the manager. She shrugged. "What? It's true, and I calls 'em like I sees 'em."

"She's right." Kurt said, "Nobody since Brittany, Aphasia and Anton about an hour ago."

Terri let out an exasperated sigh, muttering something about everyone around her being incompetent, before turning to her Droid.

"Well, we're doing the _Ice _section of the shoot first; something about rented pieces needing to be returned ASAP, so we're using them so the interns can run them back later. We want to have those shots done by noon, then to switch over to the _Fire _set so we can finish up by about two thirty."

"And after that?" Kurt said, giving Marissa a 'thank you' gesture as she packed up her things.

"I promised a free afternoon, didn't I? So long as you don't do anything stupid that'll get bad press, I don't care _what _you do." Terri checked the time on her phone before moving to the mirror in front of Kurt's chair.

"They want to get started at ten—earlier if we can get it there. Of course, we're waiting on the Anderson boy to get here and set up."

Kurt perked up. "Jake's doing the pictures?"

Terri sighed. "He's the only one you'll cooperate with; of _course _he's taking the shots for us. Plus he's under contract for the production season, so he has to."

Oh, right. The contracts Terri made every aspect of the tour sign. It was a miracle anyone wanted in on the escapade; what with the way those sheets of paper essentially signed away the lives of the workers and service providers. But then again, they _had _managed to land a lot of up-and-coming talent—the one request of Kurt's Terri was willing to grant. Upstarts worked for cheaper, Terri acknowledged; Kurt just knew the new talent was younger, more fun to be around, and needed all the help they could get to reach the level of fame they wanted. He was hoping they would be able to make something bigger happen for themselves after their contracts expired.

It also didn't hurt that a lot of the young talent was devastatingly attractive. Jacob Anderson was no exception to the rule; tall, dark hair, sparkling blue eyes and a devilish smile, Kurt had seen him charm many a female lighting technician into the most complicated set-ups for his shoots. Jake was funny, and when he directed Kurt into poses he didn't bark orders or make himself sound sleazy, which was the main reason Kurt liked him so much. It definitely wasn't because Kurt could imagine Jake strutting across a catwalk for a show at Fashion Week in a suit only made to sexually frustrate the masses. Nope.

Kurt was shaken out of superimposing Jake's face on the Calvin Klein models he had stored in his memory bank by his cell phone.

**Coffee Mate [9:10am]: **remember how I told you I couldn't do lunch because my brother was taking me somewhere?

Yes. It was the reason Kurt was in a sort-of-foul mood.

**Ohmigod [9:11am]: **rub it in, why don't you? :P

But Kurt was curious. He _knew _Blaine knew that he remembered the botched lunch date, so why exactly was he bringing it up again? Where was he taking Blaine, Acapulco for some fabulous bring-your-brother-to-work conference?

**Coffee Mate [9:15am]: **three guesses where I am

Kurt didn't want three guesses. He wanted answers.

**Ohmigod [9:16am]: **it's kind of a big city, Blaine.

He hoped Blaine didn't read that off as snarky, but playing the guessing game with a city with millions of people and attractions was not going to fly, especially when Kurt had less than an hour to process whatever madness Terri and the designers had come up with for the shoot.

Kurt waited tensely for Blaine's response, jumping a little when someone knocked harshly on his door. Terri bustled to answer it, heels clicking impatiently on the floor as she muttered something about people needing to not interrupt when everyone is trying to get ready to work. She disappeared behind the door for a moment, speaking sharply with whoever came knocking for just a moment, before turning her tone to something sickly sweet that put Kurt instantly on edge. She only adopted that voice when she had something she really needed Kurt to be on his best behavior for, usually a charity event or interview that she knew he wouldn't want to take because the reporter tended to display pop culture in a negative light. It couldn't be either of those at that moment; new requests were reserved for briefings in Kurt's apartment dressing room or in Terri's office while she got ready for yet another contract negotiation. So what was this?

Why was Kurt's morning so full of unanswered questions?

"Jake's here to say hello," Terri said as she stepped away from the door with a laugh that smacked of overcompensation. "Are you okay to see him?"

Kurt shot her a glare that could only be taken for '_do I look like I'm not?' _wary of whatever had her trying to beam like a thousand-watt fluorescent light bulb.

"He's got a…assistant with him today who's apparently dying to meet you." Her voice was still happy, but she had turned just enough out of their line of sight to send a glare of her own, which Kurt understood as her threat to make his life more miserable than it already was if he screwed this up somehow. Kurt decided to placate her for the moment, so he plastered on his fakest smile and prepared to be the charming Cinderfella most of America took him as.

Terri shot another warning look at Sebastian.

"What? I'm not making any promises." He said, spreading his hands in helplessness.

"He's like Pavlov's dog. Littlest hint of gay on anything with a penis and he's all over it." Santana supplied, eyes never leaving the magazine she flipped through. Sebastian's light punch to her shoulder made her look up for a moment. "Don't act like it isn't true."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." Terri muttered after she opened the door to let Jake and his assistant in. Kurt checked his phone for a message as the door clicked shut.

**Coffee Mate [9:20am]: **not big enough. hope you know how to improv…

That could only mean one thing.

Well, several things. But they all had to stem from the one thing: Blaine was actually in the building somewhere, and Kurt had the sneaking suspicion that the 'somewhere' was—

"Kurt!" a voice boomed across the dressing room, startling Kurt into looking up. There was Jake, dashing as ever in his best work jeans and tee, with a smaller, very familiar boy hovering just behind him looking like he was trying for all the world to not hyperventilate.

That was definitely Blaine, and Kurt was absolutely trying to not giggle excitedly at pure coincidence. He would get to spend some time with Blaine, after all…

* * *

><p>Blaine was stuck in an emotional shit storm somewhere between 'star struck' and 'nervous wreck' as the blonde woman—Terri Del Monico, he had to keep telling himself, Kurt's manager Terri, Kurt-he-had-to-pretend-he'd-never-met-a-day-in-his-life-in-a-matter-of-seconds-Kurt —had swung open the door and snapped at them impatiently before realizing who was trying to beat down the door. She had gone all sugar and smiles then; Blaine attempted to make a mental note to ask Kurt if she was always so dual-sided when they got a moment alone.<p>

If they got a moment alone. Blaine wouldn't be surprised if they only got to look at each other across the shoot floor all day with the way his luck had been going.

She leaned back, asking if it was okay for them to enter, and Blaine took another second to brace himself before Kurt let them in—if Kurt decided to even do that, which Blaine couldn't imagine he wouldn't.

Too quickly for Blaine's liking, the door opened wider and Terri waved them in. They entered into the largest dressing room Blaine had ever seen; it was impersonal, the cinderblock walls covered with a smattering of Prosper posters and practically melting from the heat given off by the brutally honest makeup lighting. Blaine rode Cooper's shadow like a specter, hoping to remain less visible to the people in the room, maybe to delay the inevitable.

"Kurt!" Cooper boomed as they rounded the door. He was just as enthusiastic as usual, but something about his voice seemed antiseptic in a way Blaine hadn't heard before. Almost professional. _That _was new; Blaine had been convinced Cooper didn't have an entirely grown-up bone in his body, degrees in photojournalism and visual arts besides. But maybe he had to be that way in front of the people who were in charge of booking his larger client's appointments or something. Given the way Terri was looking at Cooper with a calculating air, and sizing up Blaine as if to determine how useful he was going to be to her, Cooper merely putting on airs made more sense.

Blaine could just barely see the top of Kurt's head from his spot behind Cooper, but it snapped up as he began covering the distance between the entryway and Kurt's chair, moving in for whatever kind of greeting they used for each other. He felt gazes on him, resolutely trying not to freak out as Kurt's eyes flicked to him while Coop gained on him in his makeup chair. They locked gazes for half a second, enough time for Kurt to shoot him a covert little wink.

But that little wink was enough to push Blaine off the high wire that was his sanity. He struggled to school his face into a look of happy excitement while his thoughts sounded the breakdown alarm:

_We need to act like we don't know each other and he's over there hugging my brother and _winking at me _what if somebody sees what if they figure it out oh god his backup singers are right over there and why is that blondish guy staring at me has he figured out something I bet he has that's it he knows and he's gonna tell Terri and I'm going to get arrested for stalking a star or something I hope he's happy I'm going to get a record and only because I wanted to freaking _talk _with him and he wanted to talk to me—_

"Blaine?" a hand was in front of his face, large and pale and coming in to pat at his cheek. Blaine struggled to quiet his mind and focus on what was actually going on. Cooper was standing in front of him, blocking his view of the room and looking worried. He recognized when Blaine came back to himself, letting out a small sigh of relief when Blaine began stammering incoherently.

"Well _that _was new," Cooper said, patting him on the shoulder before turning back around. "I think you broke him, Kurt."

"I hope not! You've got him here to look around and see what you do, right? Don't want him to be in a corner somewhere useless…"

His voice sounded louder than it should have been if he was still in his makeup chair. Blaine couldn't guarantee what would happen if—

If Cooper moved aside and Kurt was there, hand extended to shake, exuding welcome and whatever charisma he had that drew Blaine to him in the first place.

"Nice to meet you, Blaine." he said, eyes glittering with what Blaine took to mean something like _if you give us away I will make sure your life is a living hell from now on_.

And Blaine would have been fine if that was all that the encounter required, just saying hello and leaving so they could snap the photos, he was sure of it. But all too late, he remembered common American courtesy when meeting someone for the first time: the handshake. He couldn't guarantee what he would do if Kurt actually reached out to touch his hand—which of course he did. Of _course_.

The floodgates around Blaine's mouth opened and it was all he could do to censor himself.

"Oh my god, _Kurt Hummel? _Well—" _this actually isn't a new thing for us, is it?_

"I mean—" _we were going to have lunch today if you could get away from these people, isn't that funny?_

"It's just—" _I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you…_

"You changed my life—" _I don't know if I've told you this, but you made me who I am, and that's why—_

"I—I love you." _SHIT SHIT FUCKING SHIT NO THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT _please _don't think I'm creepy or something, please._

Kurt was still shaking his hand slowly, working Blaine through whatever brain revolt was still to come, but was that an edge of panic in Kurt's eyes Blaine saw? He should really be quiet now; silence would be fantastic…

"Oh my god, um…I'm going to shut up now. And go crawl somewhere dark for the rest of my life…" Blaine was an unappealing shade of red under his sun-darkened complexion, he just knew it. It wouldn't be surprising if Kurt let go of his hand and decided to stop talking to the stumbling, ruddy midget in front of him for good. Blaine wasn't sure if he was willing to talk to _himself _after that one.

"Honey, _stop._" This was it, Kurt was going to ask Cooper to escort him out of the building and find another assistant who wasn't so obviously crazy for the shoot today.

But on the bright side, nobody would be able to tell they had met before if Kurt was going to stop talking to the insane one, right?

"You're cute." he laid his other hand atop Blaine's before smiling reassuringly. Blaine blinked stupidly. He was _what_?

"Although I always thought Jake's family would be better spoken than you." Kurt stepped back, tone acerbic as he gave Blaine an obvious once-over. "And taller. Honestly Jake, if this is what your brother is like, you can forget about introducing me to any of your sisters."

In the corner, Kurt's mousy, red-headed publicist choked on her water as Cooper said "Nah, Lei's nothing like either of us. Can't stand those 'Liberal Artists', you know. Plus she's a little old for you."

"So she'd be the normal one, then? Because a spazzy photographer and a kid with a face but no common sense can't have too much else floating around in their gene pool." Kurt asked, turning to look shrewdly at Cooper. Blaine was confused. This was a side of Kurt he hadn't seen before, although he thought he'd gotten an eyeful of it in a couple text messages.

Several things happened all at once. Terri made a move to go stand by Kurt, which was intercepted by the publicist, who looked dangerously (well, as dangerously as she could) at the backup singers who were sniggering and attempting to take pictures on their cellphones for whatever reason. In the general hubbub Kurt rapped smartly at Blaine's hip, right above the lump that was his Blackberry sitting heavy in his pocket. He gave him another look that was supposed to be significant without looking that way before letting Terri (who had dodged the publicist) pull him away by the shoulder and all but drag him to the en suite bathroom and slam the door.

"I am so sorry," spluttered the publicist. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's usually better behaved…"

Cooper threw back his head and laughed. "He's not an animal Emma. He's a teenage boy under all that makeup and shit you people put on him. They have those days. Right, Blainers?"

Blaine dodged Cooper's shove to the shoulder and gave a glare, which Cooper deflected with a laugh. "I rest my case."

Emma looked uncertain, eyeing the bathroom door as she said "If you're sure. But Terri's probably going to want to make it up to you. Can we use your particulars to get into contact with, Blaine, was it?"

"That'd be fine," Cooper said as Blaine nodded.

"_And I thought you would know better than to send some bumbling idiot in here when I'm getting ready for this dumbassed shoot!_" came a screech from the bathroom.

"I think that's our clue to get out of here," Cooper said lightly, nudging Blaine toward the door. "Do I need to tell David our Star needs a couple more minutes?"

"Please." Emma said as Terri wound into her rebuttal. As quickly as her chunky heels would let her, she was off for the door, swinging it open and disappearing behind it. Cooper nodded to the singers, who waved back while he and Blaine made their exit.

The changing room's door was almost closed when Blaine heard one of the two, the pretty Latina maybe, say

"What in the hell just happened?"

His sentiments exactly.

**There we have it. The boys have basically stolen the plot from me; expect at least 2 more parts for this particular arc…which won't happen for at least a week and a half; my beta is leaving for a retreat thing and won't be available and I'm taking a trip at the end of this week, where I won't be writing anything. Figured I'd let you all know.**

**Oh! And someone asked who Jake was. I mentioned it in chapter 10, but have faith peoples—all shall be explained in time.**

**Till next time!**


	12. It's a Small World After All, Part IV

**I was going to wait for Lydia (I-Dream-To-Dream-1613) to beta this before publishing it, but in celebration of THE BOX SCENE, have a chapter! I'll re-upload it once she gets back to her internet.**

**Hello again! Hope you're doing well after our break. Excuses regarding why we keep taking them could be given, but you probably don't care. Just know that this and the Tiny Bang are in the forefront of my mind, since I leave for Japan in less than a month and **_**really**_** don't know how regular updates'll be once I get over there.**

**In other news, we hit 11,000 hits at the last chapter, along with more than 130 follows and a bunch of favorites. Guys, I'm floored, honored and so so happy you're taking this long journey into AU plot with me. Thank you SO much!**

**And a note: I'm a technology idiot, and didn't realize you could reply to reviews on here. I can start that, if you all would like, but there're two things in chapter 11 that seemed to confuse: Cooper's name-flopping and Kurt's insta-bitch behavior. Can I say trust that everything will be explained? I threw it all in there, and if everything works out the way I'm **_**thinking**_** it will, loose ends will be tied (maybe even before I get around to explaining them in actual words—you should be able to draw conclusions about Kurt within the next couple chapters.) But if you're still wanting to know, you can drop me a review (hint, hint) or a PM here or an ask on tumblr (my URL is lightningcolfer [what no this is not a plug for friends]) and I'll be more than happy to explain—just let me know how spoiled you want to be.**

TL;DR: SURPRISE CELEBRATORY UNBETA'ED UPDATE! Sorry about the wait; holy shit a lot of you are paying attention to this; there were no mistakes in names or behavior in the last chapter; here's more of the arc that never ends (I'm kidding. It's gonna end. Eventually); R&R, por favor.

* * *

><p>It was hard keeping up with the shoot. Even if Blaine hadn't been wondering about Kurt's sudden problem, he would have had a hard time figuring out what exactly was going on. People were everywhere; triple-checking lighting against their plots, re-draping fabric across cubes for Kurt to sit on, and wheeling massive props on-set, among them the stuffed polar bear Blaine had noticed earlier and a to scale model of a Great Wooly Mammoth.<p>

Why they decided throwing Kurt atop a bunch of arctic animals would make for good pictures completely escaped Blaine; Cooper seemed to take it in stride.

"Del Monico is insane," he told Blaine "but she usually knows what she's doing. So we're gonna go with it. I'm taking pictures and you're probably going to stand under the mammoth with the safety crew and their giant pads just in case Kurt falls off. You may even get to touch him." he winked roguishly. Blaine wanted to smack him.

"I don't think he'd appreciate that." Blaine said, polishing a lens for something to do.

Cooper snorted. "Maybe not. But you've got to admit, watching his diva-out would be hilarious."

Blaine didn't say anything, but he considered smudging the lens up again in retaliation. It would _not_ be funny if he caused Kurt to become angrier about his being there. If he was even angry at Blaine. There was the wink at first, and the tap—he didn't think he had imagined that pressure on his hip, or the look Kurt gave before he went to have it out with Terri. And Blaine _had_ texted that he 'hoped Kurt could improv'. Kurt was a freaking actor. Of course he could improvise. At least, one would think so. It didn't sound like he was doing any of that when he lit into Terri as Blaine and Cooper were leaving, though. Blaine was stuck on a fence, somewhere between thinking "Kurt has a plan" and "Kurt was jerking my leg all along and I was a sucker to fall for it."

He wished something would clarify itself. He didn't think his emotions could handle another upheaval so soon after the tumultuous morning.

Blaine took one last look at his phone. 10:05.

So the morning was about halfway over, and no text from Kurt to help figure out where exactly it was they stood.

* * *

><p>Phones read well after ten thirty when Kurt finally emerged from his rooms, dressed in white head-to-toe and boasting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which had an almost dead quality to them. Blaine looked up long enough to see him enter the shoot floor, and then went back to quadruple-checking the cords linking Cooper's many cameras to his laptop and external hard drive. He supposed that if Kurt was angry at him, he wouldn't want him staring; if he wasn't actually mad, people were supposed to <em>think<em> he was, and that Blaine was one of the causes. So avoiding eye contact was probably for the better.

The shoot was off at a frantic pace. Determined to make up for lost time, the shoot director (one David Martinez, Cooper had told Blaine in their down time), had his workers moving at optimum efficiency. No sooner had Cooper taken a couple of shots than the set was instantly transformed into another version of a winter wonderland.

Kurt went through a ton of costume changes. Blaine lost count after about six; he did remember some kind of futuristic thing that made Kurt look like the Tin Man—and another fifteen minute long hang-up in Kurt's dressing room before he emerged in a fur-covered loincloth and shawl to pose with the animals. His singers spent plenty of time snapping photos on their phones and snickering at Kurt, since they didn't seem to be necessary. The Latina, who everyone kept calling Santana, reminded anyone who would listen—mainly a willowy blonde dancer and the girl in the band—that this shoot was a massive waste of their time. Her tune changed considerably once she and the blond guy were forced into caveman and woman costumes of their own and made to act out an attack on the Wooly Mammoth. Blaine couldn't help but laugh to himself; that Santana was a bit of a firecracker, and the guy (she kept calling him Killer; was that his name?) knew exactly what to say to set her off, sending Emma or Terri running to separate them for all of about three seconds.

Apart from the singers, the band members and dancers took a couple of in-costume shots of their own, mainly a snowball fight in matching winter ensembles. Blaine wondered why they even got called in, if they weren't going to be posing with Kurt.

The Fire shoot went much the same, after a group of Prosper's people carted the Mammoth and Polar Bear away in a service elevator. Kurt dashed into his rooms, followed by a guy and girl carting makeups; Kurt came out in a completely different outfit and slightly more color on his face while Blaine, Cooper, and the rest of the shoot staff turned over the set; Kurt followed Cooper's directions, studiously avoiding Blaine other than to give him little annoyed glances. Santana and Killer would aggravate each other or the band members until they were given some kind of costume to throw on for their mini-session.

Blaine was soothed by the repetition; Cooper had taken him to shoots that were a million times more hectic than this one before, and knowing what to expect from the work took his mind off whether or not Kurt was up to something.

* * *

><p>Despite Kurt's meltdown causing them to start late, the shoot ended on time. Cooper scoffed tiredly as Martinez strutted around set congratulating all the set hands.<p>

"We may have finished on time, but getting these shots to look decent is going to be a nightmare." He griped. Blaine looked over his shoulder as he scrolled through the pictures on his computer. He figured Coop had his work cut out for him, personally. The majority of Kurt's shots looked perfect; between the costumes, makeup, and Kurt's poses, there was little to edit in Blaine's eyes. Of course, Blaine-view and professional-photographer-Jacob-Cooper-Anderson-view were probably very different.

The telltale click of stilettos behind them drew both the Anderson boys' attention. Terri was there, looking more flustered than she had been that morning, asking abruptly to "speak with Jacob, preferably alone", since they were going to talk deadlines for turning the prints over. Blaine took that as his blatantly obvious cue to leave, and went to the cameras to make sure everything was in place. He'd just bent over the case to resettle a lens when he heard a throat clear quietly off to his left.

It was Emma, he discovered, followed by a ridiculously blonde black woman. Blaine straightened warily, trying to figure what they wanted. An awkward moment passed where no-one knew what to say.

"Kurt's very sorry for the way he acted this morning," Emma finally said, catching and carefully holding Blaine's gaze. "And he's wondering if you'd like to join him for lunch today? I promise he'll behave himself this time."

Blaine was startled. This was much faster damage control than he'd expected; Emma's asking to use Cooper's particulars when Kurt had his meltdown made him think it would be a picture in the mail or something. But then, given the way Kurt had sassed Terri after she took him out of the dressing room proper, maybe they thought forcing Kurt to be social during his free afternoon would be a better punishment than autographing a couple pieces of cardstock—although forcing him to be social could be considered cruel and unusual by lots of standards. Not to mention the way it could backfire horribly if Kurt didn't behave.

As he was turning Emma's proposition over in his head, it all clicked into place: Kurt did all that stuff on purpose, so he could get his lunch with Blaine. And this way, everyone who mattered would know what they were up to. So it _had_ all been an act! The knot in Blaine's chest dissolved as he nodded, tried to find his words.

Emma smiled encouragingly at him before handing over a pamphlet (_So You've Just Met Kurt Hummel_) and beginning to chatter about where to meet Kurt outside once they left the studio. He caught the bit about Kurt being in a disguise but having a ball cap and blue shirt, waiting for Blaine outside a restaurant near Chinatown; somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped Emma and the other lady (who he was pretty certain was Kurt's personal assistant, Roz Washington) didn't take offense to the fact that he wasn't paying as much attention to them as he probably should have been. He was going to 'meet Kurt' all over again, with permission from his staff. At a restaurant. Where they would probably be allowed to talk as long as they wanted.

He was pretty sure this was better than any kind of scenario he could have dreamed up on his own.

Emma having finished her spiel, she and maybe-Roz went to tell Terri they were leaving for the day before exiting the studio. Terri barely glanced up from her Android to tell them goodbye, talking at Cooper about possibilities for their final markup of the program photos. Coop shot Blaine a questioning glance; Blaine flashed him the pamphlet Emma had given him and a thumbs up, which he quickly pulled down once he noticed Terri staring at the both of them. Blaine busied himself with the last of the equipment while Cooper tried to get Terri to pick a date, finally getting her to choose as Blaine fastened the last latch on the oversized case.

"What's with the grin, little brother?" Cooper cuffed him playfully on the back of the head as he walked over, and Blaine scowled for a moment. "You look kind of like you're trying really hard to look happy even though you're about to wet yourself."

"I just got invited to eat with Kurt." He responded, handing Cooper the pamphlet. Cooper sifted through it and snorted before handing it back.

"That's great, right? What more could a fan ask for?" He handed Blaine the smaller camera case, taking the larger wheeled one for himself.

"I mean, he was acting kind of…strange today." Blaine replied, hoping to come across as unsure and very nervous. "Not like he seems when he's out on red carpets and things."

Cooper looked at Blaine as if he'd grown second head over the last thirty seconds. "You ought to know that people act differently when they're in public—or did you grow up with a different Jacob and Carmen Anderson for parents?"

He had a point. Their parents did have very different personas when they were home and when people could see them. But Blaine hoped the comment would make Cooper think he was self-conscious about meeting Kurt again.

Blaine also hoped this thinking ahead to gage other people's reactions would quickly become a thing of the past.

Cooper let them out the door after waving goodbye to the people left in the studio. As they walked to the elevator, he spoke again.

"It's like I told Emma earlier; under all that fame and stuff, Kurt's just a kid. Well," he thought for a moment as Blaine pushed the elevator call button, "technically he's an adult now, but he's not all that different from you. And if you remember that, you ought to be just fine."

So Coop didn't have any real advice for him. At least, not any that Blaine didn't already know for himself. He stayed quiet though, letting Cooper think he had given him something to ponder on the ride to the ground floor.

They passed through security again before Cooper spoke again.

"You don't have anything to worry about, Tiny Dancer. Just act normal and everything will turn out fine."

"But what if I make myself look like an idiot once I get there?" That, at least, was a very real concern. Blaine was pretty sure Kurt would be on his best behavior, at least for a while, but he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't have another nervous breakdown over them being noticed by more of Kurt's fans or something.

"Then you pretend to choke on a dumpling and get the hell out of Dodge." Cooper took the camera bag from his brother as he chuckled at his own wit. Blaine scowled some more as they left through the revolving doors they entered through that morning.

"I'm not saying it anymore, Blainers. You'll be fine. Kurt's actually a great kid when Terri's not ruffling his feathers. Go forth and get food." And with that, he turned Blaine in the direction of the nearest subway station and gave a little push. Blaine stumbled a little before turning to see him hailing a cab.

"And don't forget to let me know when you get to the hostel!" Cooper called when he noticed Blaine looking after him.

"Can't do that if I've choked on my dim sum, can I?" Blaine asked, turning towards the subway stop. He didn't see Cooper's shoulders moving in quiet amusement as he headed down the street.

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><p><strong>So I'm praying to whatever is in charge of character mindsets that there's one part left of this arc; we're at just over 11,000 words for it as a whole, and this last bit is threatening to split itself in two. I'm going to cry if it does, just so you all know. This has been fun, but there's so much more for the boys to do—they're only 13 days into Blaine's trip, after all…<strong>

**I'm actually really glad I split it up into parts, because if I were in y'all's shoes I'd want to murder me if this was published in one massive chunk. **

**I feel like I talk a lot in my notes. Should I stop that? Probably.**

**Again, this is unbeta'ed. If you see something wonky going on in your email alerts about this story, it's me putting the newer version up...**


	13. It's a Small World After All, Part V

***Quietly slides the new chapter out for you all to read and retreats back into the abyss***

The restaurant's outer walls were dingy, ancient bricks covered in posters with announcements in Chinese, graffiti, and decades of city grime buildup. Blaine shivered a bit as he walked up; this didn't look like a place for an international pop sensation to meet a fan he was working on impressing.

_Must have fantastic food_. Blaine thought as he opened the door. It was the only reason he could think of for sending teenagers into the city for a late lunch.

He wasn't impressed initially; there were a few mismatched chairs plunked down around decoupage tables, surrounded by shelves hosting scores of Chinese and American foods. Bamboo screen paintings of chubby Buddha's lined the available wall space, along with what had to be several very sad attempts at paper-Mache dragon masks. The focal points were the floor-to ceiling windows that displayed the gourmet kitchen. Chefs bustled around, and Blaine could see the beginning hints of condensation gathering around the window panes.

In his looking about the space, he noticed the spiral stair case to his right, "DINE-IN CUSTOMERS" on a garish sign signaling for him to take the climb. Anxiously, he followed the directions, wondering if the second floor would be as kitschy as the first.

It was a drastic change. Incense smoke drifted in heavy tendrils across the lamp-lit dining room. At least, the incense put up a valiant effort to move about the room; the interior resembled a greenhouse more than an actual dining space. Flowering plants hung from the ceiling, climbing vines eased their way over the walls dividing booths, orchids sat calmly as centerpieces, ferns exploded from the walls between bad remakes of Chinese paper screens. Smoke and light fought valiantly to be noticed around greenery; they contributed an air of secrecy and shadows, where things meant to be hidden could remain that way for a moment longer.

So it was perfect for meeting a person in disguise.

What it wasn't perfect for however, was finding a disguised person. Blaine stood uncomfortably in the dining area, looking about for Kurt or some telltale sign of the singer. He was, of course seeing a lot of green, wondering half-heartedly whether he'd be meeting Poison Ivy and one of the many versions of Bruce Wayne instead of an enigmatic teenage sensation.

Somewhere between deciding to leave the foyer and reaching for his phone to simply text Kurt about his location, Blaine noticed the pamphlet he'd been worrying between his fingers. He took a moment to examine it, skimming the glossy promotion photos and stock information on Kurt. It was all stuff he knew already—Kurt's birthday, how he got his start, who his producer was, what he had planned for the immediate future—and then, just as he was giving it up as a bad source of information, he noticed a paragraph:

_If you're one of the lucky fans to receive this pamphlet, congratulations! You are about to have a private session with Kurt himself. Please proceed to _Muqin Chinese Bistro and Deli _to begin; ask for _Kaitlin Chu_ and remember: no flash photography unless specifically cleared with Kurt, Terri Del Monico, or Emma Pillsbury._

Blaine snorted and pulled out his phone. This was the right shop, but having no idea who he was looking for was causing a bit of a problem in getting to his 'private session', which really should be renamed, he thought.

A girl about his age stood behind a half closed Dutch door, dressed simply enough he sensed she was an employee of the restaurant.

"Are you Kaitlin?" He asked.

"Depends on who's asking." She tossed a curtain of long dark hair over her shoulder and gave Blaine an inspectorial once-over.

He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to handle this girl. So she _was_ Kaitlin, of that much he was positive. But what was the best way to let her know about the lunch?

"I'm supposed to meet someone here for lunch?" he explained.

"That's the general idea behind sit-down restaurants, yes." She snarked. When he continued to stare blankly at her, she sighed. "Can I get a _name_, Shellac?"

"Blaine Anderson."

She huffed impatiently as she turned to the tiny computer mounted to the wall. A moment later, she looked up.

"We don't have anything for any 'Anderson'. Is it under someone else's name?"

"I'm not sure." he admitted. "I just got told to come here and ask for Kaitlin Chu to get in to lunch."

"Let me guess, you got this information from some random pamphlet and decided to follow through on the instructions." She hazarded. Blaine blinked, unsure if she thought she was being snarky or completely serious. Regardless, she and her attitude were directly in the way of Blaine figuring out just what was wrong with Kurt.

"Actually, yeah." Blaine waved a corner of the pamphlet in her face, enough that she could see the logo for the restaurant, but not to show anything about who he was meeting.

She perked up at that, snatching at the pamphlet as Blaine wiggled it around. Blaine allowed himself a very small, arrogant smile. He knew something this girl didn't and she was determined to get it out of him. Maybe she'd use his _name_ instead of making up nicknames. His hair wasn't all _that_ shiny, after all.

"Where'd you get that?" she demanded.

"Someone kind of important gave it to me." Kind of true. Emma was the publicist to a very well-known teen idol, after all. That had to give her some kind of clout.

The girl made a frustrated noise and held out her hand.

"What?" she demanded when Blaine hesitated. "I can't take you to the right person if you won't tell me who you're meeting. Give me the paper, already."

He reluctantly handed over the paper; her eyes lit up in recognition as she glanced over it.

"So you're visiting that one. No wonder you're acting all crazy. Come around to the left here; I'll take you to them."

"Them?" Blaine called as she disappeared through another door. She was waiting as he made short work of rounding the corner.

"He's got a babysitter now—a bodyguard. I sat them about an hour ago."

Well. A bodyguard. That could cause problems, couldn't it? Would they be able to talk the way they had last time they were alone?

Did Kurt even want to talk?

"I don't know what all happened today but he was _pissed_ when he got here." Kaitlin continued. They walked past a row of booths until they came upon a partition. She rapped smartly on the wood paneling before calling "You got company, Nori!" and sliding open the screen.

Inside was Kurt, dressed plainly by his standards; jean shorts and a nondescript polo. The only way Blaine would have recognized him was by the annoyance in his voice as he reprimanded Kaitlin for making so much noise coming into the room.

"You don't like the way I open the door? Fine. Maybe you can find another place that won't blab from here to kingdom come your favorite place to have under-the-table lunches. Are there any of those?"

"No." Kurt said begrudgingly.

"Exactly. So you'll just have to deal, _chiangbae_. Now, here's your fan; try and keep this one quiet. The Hightowers are here."

"Again?" Kurt sent a glare through the paper screen to his right; Blaine could only assume the Hightowers were seated in another well-hidden alcove.

"Every Wednesday. They're about the only constant thing about this place." She stopped talking and surveyed the little group: pop star, bodyguard, and the mildly panicked fan. "I'll leave the three of you to it, then."

And with that, she backed out of the room, leaving Blaine standing awkwardly as the screen shut with a quiet click.

"Don't just stand there." Kurt gestured absently at the chairs closest to Blaine. He sat, watching anxiously when Kurt pulled out his phone and began fiddling with the screen.

Minutes passed, no one speaking. Kurt kept connected to the LED screen; the bodyguard alternated between watching Blaine intently and glancing at the paper screen and varied shrubbery; Blaine fidgeted. Bodyguard made him nervous, staring as if he were waiting on Blaine to release his inner psycho and go after Kurt with a flame thrower. Kurt's ignoring him made him worry; if Kurt didn't want to talk with him, why didn't he make an excuse to cut the lunch short? Or had food ready and waiting when Blaine arrived, so they didn't have to order entrees and then wait for them to cook. Actually—

Blaine looked at the table. Apart from the glasses of water and centerpiece, it was bare.

"Are we going to order anything?" he ventured. Kurt looked up, annoyance playing across his features. Blaine allowed his eyes to wander to where his eyes played with the edge of the table.

"There're no menus." He muttered. Kurt's eyes flashed in a way Blaine couldn't quite identify before he spoke.

"He's right. Carl, can you go ask for some menus?"

"I'm not supposed to—"

"Well, I can't go out there, and Terri told me to play host to Blake—"

"Blaine." he corrected, still slightly confused.

"Blair here. So he can't leave, either. You're the only logical choice."

Carl still wasn't sold. Kurt sighed, put down his phone, and looked Carl square in the eye.

"We're on the second floor of a Chinese restaurant not even two blocks from the local precinct. And Blaine's Jake's little brother. What's the worst he could possibly get up to?"

Carl sized Blaine up one more time before getting to his feet.

"I'll only be a second then. And I'll know if you get up to anything." He warned.

As soon as the door slid shut Kurt was on his feet, muttering "Oh god, _finally_" as he moved to a potted tree next to the booth. He shoved it out of the way, revealing a window that he promptly opened and threw a leg out before looking back at Blaine.

"Are you coming?"

"What?" this was completely out of left field, based on the way Kurt had behaved every time Blaine had seen him that day.

"We've got about twenty-seven seconds to get down the fire escape and lost in a crowd before Carl comes back. Are you staying or going?"

Blaine hesitated. He wasn't used to second-guessing people, especially not people he believed to be his friends. But it never hurt to be careful when they threw him for loops more than once every couple of weeks. Not being wary then was what hurt.

"You're confused; I know. But if you'd come on, I'll explain. I promise."

"I thought you said we couldn't get up to anything here." Blaine said, standing and meeting Kurt at the window.

"No, I said _you _couldn't get up to anything. And _you_ couldn't have; not without me to show you how to get up to things. I'll make sure Terri doesn't try and have you arrested for kidnapping, if that's what you're worried about."

That _did_ clear up a sizeable worry. And Kurt explaining just what the hell his logic had been would hopefully clear up the rest. What was the worst that could happen?

Kurt held out his hand.

"Please?"

"Since you asked politely." Blaine smiled cautiously, placing his hand in Kurt's. "For a couple hours there I was sure you'd forgotten your manners."

"Har-dee-har." Kurt pulled him through the window and shut it once Blaine was clear. "Now let's get out of here before he notices I gave him the slip."

With an exaggerated bow Blaine allowed Kurt past him. They clambered down the fire escape and into the alley.

As they darted into the crowd, Blaine felt another hand wrap securely around his, tugging him toward the subway.

Perhaps his Wednesday would end on a better note than he'd planned.

**Oh my god you guys. I am SO sorry. I never meant for this to take so long in updating. I can give excuse after excuse, but time lost can't be gotten back no matter how much I explain myself.**

**Suffice it to say I'm in Japan on my study abroad, and I spent the majority of my second Sunday here cranking this out. I'm going to do my best to keep updating regularly, but I really can't make guarantees until I have a better grasp on what's going on here as far as trips I'm taking. I will be working on it, and it will NOT be abandoned.**

**And I'm sure no-one's reading anymore, but I do post things when I'm starting back up on KLBS at my tumblr (username lightningcolfer). It links through to my personal in a couple places; I post about international shenanigans between Glee and random stuff if you'd like to get a glimpse of what goes on in my head.**

**Lastly, the Tiny Bang seems to have fallen through, so I may be finishing that up and posting it sometime in the next 6 weeks…**

**Till next time!**


	14. It's a Small World After All, Part VI

**Hello again! It's been a month, did you miss me? The answer to that is probably no, and that's cool. But look! Another chapter, and it's a loooong one (for me, anyway.)**

**Not gonna chatter up here, apart from saying this is unbeta'd because I can't get hold of Lydia. Hope you enjoy if you're not paying attention to my notes, R&R, etc…**

* * *

><p>As soon as Blaine's feet hit the pavement they were off, ducking through alleyways and scrambling across roads. Kurt was on a mission; occasionally they would stop; allowing Kurt to squint up at a road sign, make a calculation in his head, and take off down the sidewalk again.<p>

After about half an hour, they came upon an ivory building with posters mounted in glass cases. Movie stars smiled down at them as they headed inside, and Kurt visibly relaxed.

"Come here often?" Blaine asked teasingly.

"I used to," Kurt replied, checking over the movies on offer. "When Terri and I first got here. It was easier to get away then, since we weren't busy with all this other stuff."

He heaved a sigh and Blaine tried his hardest to ignore him as he rolled his neck, baring a very appealing stretch of perfectly pale skin. Kurt couldn't have been doing it on purpose, Blaine knew. But despite their illusion of friendship, Blaine _was_ one of Kurt's millions of fans. And he was _very_ gay. And Kurt was, by lots of definitions, a ridiculously attractive person. Looking at photos online and watching Kurt interact over videos, Blaine figured Kurt knew how appealing people found him. He couldn't have been baiting Blaine, but Kurt was definitely drawing his attention.

"Other stuff?" Blaine managed to ask, only after staring at some poster with a smiling Neal Patrick Harris.

Kurt walked over to the kiosk and bought tickets for a movie, waiting until he returned to speak. "I mean, we got here with six months' rent ad a rough outline for getting noticed. So there weren't any PR agents, personal assistants, stylists, contracts and obligations…she let me wander the city between classes and what little gigs we could pick up. I spent a lot of time here our first summer."

Blaine followed as Kurt moved into the theater proper, nodding as the scent of melted butter took over his senses. "But will she figure you're here?"

"I don't see why she would." He answered. "I haven't come since that first summer. I'm kind of hoping she's forgotten about it." Noticing Blaine's discomfiture, he added, "We can leave right after, or even in the middle of the movie, if you want. Let me know if you don't want to stay anymore."

Blaine nodded again as they stepped up to the concessions counter. A moment of indecision and a minor argument over who was going to pay later, the boys were headed for the screening, Blaine tucking his wallet back into his shorts.

"This movie…"

"It's kind of bad. Like, _really_ bad. And I normally really like Neil Patrick Harris."

"Well, you _were _staring at that poster like it was the only movie you ever wanted to see."

"So you bought the tickets just because I looked obsessed?"

"Basically."

Blaine snorted around his straw. "That was terrible logic, Kurt."

Kurt merely shrugged. "It's part of having a normal summer. Nice change."

"Bad movies with people you barely know?" Blaine asked.

"The very best." He was unapologetic. "Especially when I wasn't planning on watching one in the first place."

Was that a bad thing? Maybe Blaine wasn't as welcome as Kurt had been making him seem. He sifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

"I mean, when you texted and cancelled, I was planning on kicking everyone out of my apartment at the end of the day and sleeping or something. Nothing exciting, but better than being bothered all night long, you know? It had been sounding better and better, though; I forgot how bad Terri always gets during shoots. So she was being her usual charming self; Emma decided she wasn't satisfied with the way the food was prepared, so I wasn't allowed to eat anything until she re-washed it or had somebody else do it the way she liked it; and then Roz was calling around trying to pin down who I was having lunch with three weeks from next Tuesday and trying to get bitch-mode Terri to agree to everything she was planning. Plus Santana and Sebastian were harassing the makeup crew and stressing everyone out…"

"That's a lot." Blaine said, amazed. Kurt nodded as he took a sip of his drink.

"It always is." He agreed. "I don't know why I thought inviting the entire entourage to the shoot was a good idea. But I did it. So I was really looking forward to doing whatever I wanted in the afternoon, and then you walked in with Jake—"

"Sorry, but you mean Cooper, right?" Blaine asked.

"Who?"

"Cooper. You keep calling him Jake."

"Is that not his name? That's what he introduced himself as." Kurt turned to look at Blaine as he asked, "Jacob Anderson?"

"No; well, yes—Cooper's his middle name; we've called him that for longer than I can remember. Maybe he switched it to be more professional or something?" Blaine wondered aloud.

Kurt shrugged. "Like I said; he's always been Jake to us. But anyway. You walked in with your brother and he looked so proud of himself for introducing us. I didn't want to do anything then other than get out—with you!" he corrected when he caught Blaine looking uncertain again. "We were supposed to have lunch before, and I knew that if I found a way to get it—" Kurt stopped short, looking discomfited. Blaine watched as he battled something in his head, waiting as the headmistress on the movie screen got down to the bottom of the lies told by the main couple. After several seconds of silence from Kurt, Blaine spoke up.

"Are you okay?" It was odd; Kurt had a lot to say when they were together, and he didn't usually seem to have much of a filter; what exactly had made him stop? And it wasn't like he _didn't_ have something to say; Blaine could see that much behind his eyes.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Kurt answered, still distracted. "Just…thinking about something, is all."

Blaine watched him closely, thinking _'Of _course_ you're thinking of something'_, and hoping he would share.

Not like he had to, or anything. They'd only known each other a week and Kurt had to be more cautious than the average person, after all. While Blaine hadn't reported his meetings to the nearest tabloid, Kurt couldn't be sure he wouldn't. So Blaine was content to wait until Kurt could trust him a little more before he started telling him absolutely everything.

"If you say so. But, I am here if you ever want to talk about it." Blaine looked over at Kurt, catching his glance in the dim lighting of the projector screen; how were his eyes sparkling in semi-darkness? That just wasn't fair.

"I know," Kurt answered, smiling. It was a sad smile, Blaine figured. He wondered briefly what he would have to do to put another, genuinely happy one there instead; he had to quickly turn to the screen to hide the sudden flush that rose to his cheeks.

"Well then, make sure you remember. It's what friends are for."

"Yes, sir." Kurt chuckled as the movie faded to the credits. With a groan, he got to his feet, gathering his things before holding out his hand for Blaine to take. Blaine's mind churned a mile a minute as he took it and was tugged upright. Why did Kurt keep grabbing at his hand to take him places? It wasn't like Blaine could lose him when they travelled together, what with the way Kurt would continually check over his shoulder to make sure he was still there. And it wasn't that Blaine didn't _like_ it—far from it, actually—since having a boy be unafraid to touch him was a wonderful rarity. It was just off-putting. As far as everyone knew, Kurt wasn't gay. His people were very good at keeping his personal life under wraps and Blaine made it a point to ignore rumors that swirled around his fan base, much preferring the definite sources to the chatter of teenage girls.

So maybe Kurt was just more tactile with people in real life?

No matter how Kurt chose to interact (Blaine refused to let himself think _and love_), he needed to pay attention; the mid-afternoon sun seared his eyes as they stepped out of the theater, Kurt trying to hash out a battle plan.

"We can go look around in So Ho; there's a little boutique there I want to visit if it's still open…or we can look for anything you want to see; or I guess we could take the subway to central park—d" Kurt stopped talking, interrupted by the rumbling of Blaine's stomach.

Blaine laughed. "It has been a while since I ate anything. Maybe we can find an early dinner?"

"Sounds good. Let's go more south, see what we can find. I don't think they'll look for me any further out than Gramercy Park."

They set off down the street, dodging people as they wandered in search of a restaurant. Kurt must have decided to put away whatever had bothered him earlier; he was chattering about everything that caught his eye, from billboards on building tops to the clothing they passed in the shop windows.

Blaine did notice, however, that he avoided talking about his workday after the pause. They wandered; in what Blaine thought was a southerly direction, for another twenty minutes or so, until they came across a Mexicana bistro that looked promising. People were crowding the tables on the sidewalk, laughing and unwinding from long days at work. After a couple minutes chatting with the hostess they decided to wait for a free table; after accepting their buzzer, they moved towards the edge of the crowd. Kurt folded himself down onto a nearby bench, heaving a sigh as he arranged his limbs.

"I almost never do this much walking; it's nice" he said, taking another swipe at the back of his neck. As he reached for the tense spot, Blaine noticed a glittering around Kurt's neck that he hadn't in the theater. It flashed a white yellow in the sunlight, drawing Blaine's attention from the smooth expanse of Kurt's neck.

"What's that?" Blaine pointed vaguely at Kurt's neck when he looked at him, surprised. "Your necklace."

Kurt drew the chain out of his shirt, revealing a silver pendant about an inch wide. It was a simple thing, circular and smooth; very different from the accessories Kurt wore on a regular basis, but it seemed like it had a type of gravity, if the way Kurt seemed to cave in on himself was any indication.

"This old thing? It's nothing special, really."

"It looks like it was a thoughtful present, at least. When'd you get it?" Okay, so Blaine was technically prying, he knew; he just couldn't think of anything to talk about. Blaine's life was bound to bore Kurt, so he didn't want to bring it up, and Kurt was obviously feeling down about something he didn't really want to share. So for the first time Blaine could remember, it was slightly awkward between them.

And, being perfectly honest, talking about it gave him an excuse to look at Kurt without being _very_ creepy.

Kurt watched the pendant for a moment before he finally answered.

"One of my best friends gave it to me as a Hanukkah present a couple years before I left. She thought it'd be a good idea for the three of us to have a friendship trinket, since we were the only two other kids in our school who actually liked her."

"That was awkwardly sweet of her." Blaine smiled at the tiny pendant, watching the way if reflected minute flashes of the city around them. "But you're not Jewish, are you?"

Kurt laughed, and his eyes cleared of their uncertainty for a moment. "Good grief, no. We were the Jewess, the atheist, and the Christian girl who wouldn't accept the Hanukkah gift until we agree to call them friendship gifts…"

"Oh." Well that was unusual, Blaine figured. "Has your other friend gotten better at being open-minded?"

The veil descended over Kurt's expression again, only this time, Blaine thought he may have detected more sadness—or was it guilt?—in it.

"I'm not sure," Kurt answered. "We haven't really talked since I signed with Terri to move up here; haven't talked with either of them, really."

"Oh?"

Kurt made a noise in the affirmative before startling; their table buzzer had begun sounding off in his lap. He stood quickly, tucking the necklace back under his shirt with his free hand and beckoning Blaine to follow with the hand holding the buzzer. Blaine did; trailing close behind as Kurt went back to the wait station and was led to a little table just inside the main dining area. It was a little crowded, jammed between the edges of the booth seats and just barely peeking out into the aisle, but it was the only available table, claimed the waiter when Blaine asked about maybe switching tables.

Kurt smiled weakly once they were seated, the both of them scrunched into the corner—it was either that or be constantly bumped into by the staff and customers as they passed—before reaching for the menu at the same time as Blaine.

It was already promising to be a bigger deal for Blaine than he had anticipated. He'd been expecting a trip to a quiet little bistro or something, where he'd be able to sit and talk to Kurt at a distance. The…_nearness_ of their seats was just not okay; he could see every angle on Kurt's face from where he sat. Every time Kurt shifted he caught another whiff of whatever scent Kurt was wearing, he could _swear_ he felt the air shift each time Kurt took a breath—

It just hit him really, unfairly suddenly—again, just when he thought he was over it—that _Kurt_ was sitting _right next to him_ _and sharing his air_, so naturally his mind did what it did best when he was nervous: he opened his mouth and—

"At least it's kind of secure right here? I mean, people won't really be able to see the two of us; and even if they did, they wouldn't recognize you right away, since the booths are making a kind of shadow—"

"Blaine!" Kurt laughed in earnest, patting him on the shoulder to try and calm him. "We'll be fine. It's just a little tighter than the average table. We'll survive. Now, what do you want off the menu? We may have to get something to share; since the table's so small and everything." He tacked the ending on quickly; Blaine worked hard to merely nod before leaning over to look at the menu with Kurt.

* * *

><p>'<em>If nothing else,'<em> Blaine thought as he set down his fork, _'at least the awkward tension from earlier is gone.'_

After Kurt managed to talk Blaine down from his panic, the dinner went wonderfully. They did wind up having to share an entrée after their appetizers arrived and they couldn't eat properly without nearly bruising the other.

They were wrapping up desert, debating stopping somewhere for coffee before heading home. Kurt wasn't interested in going home, and once Blaine could get a little _space _between them, he knew he would be hesitant to return to the hostel. He'd be alone in their dorm until Rachel stumbled back from her practice room at Columbia or he had to commute up there and drag her out. It wasn't something he was looking forward to, but he knew it was inevitable.

"I don' think I'm going to be able to." Blaine said finally, checking his phone for the time; when had nine o'clock rolled around? "If I go to coffee I'll miss hauling Rache from her musical stupor before the security guards kick her out."

Kurt sighed, swirling the last of some cake around on his plate. "I guess that makes sense," he allowed, "But I wish you didn't have to leave."

Blaine cocked his head. "And why is that?"

"Like I said earlier, this feels normal; it's nice."

"Hiding away from your entourage and meeting with some guy you met on accident is 'normal feeling'?"

Kurt huffed lightly and pushed lightly at Blaine's shoulder before flagging down their waiter for the check. "No. Looking for things to do, finding bad movies on accident, eating dinner, and just…being. _That's_ normal. Of course, wandering the city with someone who doesn't care about my professional life doesn't hurt."

"I don't know," Blaine teased, "It's pretty simple, meeting international sensations; they're the only people I'd rather talk to…"

"I'm so sure. I'd hate to be cutting into your late-night spa date with Lady Gaga."

"Thank goodness. I was worried I'd have to start making up real excuses for leaving."

"I told you that you could leave whenever you wanted to—"

"Kidding, Kurt. And don't think I didn't see you pull that credit card out of your wallet just now. We're splitting the bill."

"Are we now?" Kurt demanded coyly, flipping the check holder open, sliding the card into the pocket, and handing it back to the waiter when he glided by again. Blaine scowled lightly as Kurt smiled at him.

"I'd rather it be that way. I don't want to owe you anything, you know?"

"It's just a dinner, Blaine."

"Yeah, but still…I don't want to be some random nobody that mooches off of you whenever you see me. I mean, you got the coffees last week and a new pair of shorts for me—"

"The coffee was practically mandatory and the shorts were a steal—" Kurt interrupted.

"And I'm pretty sure you bought our dinners after Rachel and I went to see _Wicked_…it's like you don't think I'll stay if you don't take care of everything." Blaine continued, looking resolutely at the edge of the table.

"That's not true at all!" Kurt said. When Blaine didn't look up at him, Kurt grabbed his hand, tugging until he looked up, surprised at the sudden contact. "I'm paying because I want to; it's easier to just pay and to be honest, it gives my accountant something to sorry over other than my savings accounts. I'm not trying to keep you or buy you of or anything."

Kurt's eyes radiated sincerity; he looked so ready to stand by what he said that Blaine couldn't help but smile a little.

"I still don't like it." he said, pulling his face into a mockery of a pout.

"There's only one way to fix this, from where I see it," Kurt answered, taking the bill back from the waiter and signing a receipt with a flourish.

"And what way would that be, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked, once the waiter was out of earshot. At the mention of his last name, Kurt blanched before standing as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself.

"Earth to Kurt" Blaine called quietly, before Kurt reached over and covered his mouth—he was honestly one of the most _tactile_ people Blaine had ever met—and muttered quietly, so just Blaine could hear,

"We've got to get out of here, like, _now_." Kurt pulled his hand from Blaine's face and helped him to his feet. "I cannot _believe_ I just did that."

"Did what?"

"Used my personal card, and then my usual signature. God, I just autographed a receipt. We've got maybe 2 minutes before the manager or whoever notices, and 3 before the paparazzi show up. We have to _go_."

Blaine followed him out the door, staying quiet and hoping for the world he didn't look like he was travelling with some kind of unsavory character. Because he wasn't. This was Kurt, who had more-or-less said they were friends, who hadn't corrected Blaine when he dropped that f-bomb in the theatre.

But it would be bad if they got caught, he figured. So he worked with Kurt to leave the restaurant as nonchalantly as possible. They made it a little farther uptown, to one of the more major roads, before Kurt let them stop again.

"I guess this is where we should probably split up." Kurt said reluctantly. "Do you know where you are?"

"I'm pretty sure; our hostel is maybe ten, eleven blocks away?"

"So you don't think you'll get lost."

Blaine snorted. "Rache and I took a tour of this area when we first got here; I should be fine. What about you?"

"I'm taking a taxi. Maybe I'll be able to get home before Terri and the minions catch me."

They both shuddered. Kurt was probably bound for another falling out with Terri, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Neither of them questioned why Blaine, New York tourist, stood with him and helped call down a taxi. Blaine didn't really know why, himself—no, that was a lie. Blaine didn't want to return to his boring life; more likely than not Terri was really going to put Kurt on lockdown after that day's stunt, and he really wanted the chance to hang out with Kurt again. And Kurt, Blaine figured, wanted to enjoy his stolen freedom to hang with a person he enjoyed while he could.

A taxi finally took pity on them and stopped. Kurt reached over to open the door, but paused before getting in.

"It was fun; thanks for letting me kidnap you."

Blaine laughed. "As long as that's what you tell Terri what happened, no problem. And thank you. For wanting to do stuff with me."

"I keep saying it's a nice change, don't I?" He folded himself into the taxi as Blaine watched. Moments later the window rolled down. "You get home safely, okay?" he called as the taxi pulled off.

Blaine nodded as Kurt rode away, tiny smile on his face. He waited until the taxi was out of his line of sight before pulling out his phone.

**Coffee Mate [9:45pm]:** you know, if you had listened to me and split the bill we wouldn't have needed to rush out of there.

He was almost home when he got a reply.

**Ohmigod [10:00pm]:** or you can pick something for us to do the next time i can get away and pay for it.

**Coffee Mate [10:01pm]:** that was your plan all along, wasn't it?!

**Ohmigod [10:03pm]:** maaaaaaybe :)

* * *

><p><strong>And there, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of It's a Small World After All. Praise whatever deity you appeal to. <strong>

**For people who are more visual when it comes to more accessory-type things, Kurt's locket (yes it's a locket) can be found on amazon; type that in followed by / Bling-Jewelry-Sterling-Pendant-Pictures/dp/B007MTQ6UU/ref=sr_1_209?s=jewelry&ie=UTF8&qid=1350395790&sr=1-209. If you don't like how that looks, tough tits; you didn't vote in my Tumblr survey so you gotta deal. I managed to get my Tumblr fixed, so everything I put in the tags ('klbs' for writing updates and me pleading for more time; 'KLBS plans' for spoiler things) will actually register. Plus I can ask questions and things now. So swing on by and join the party!**

**Now we move on to more angsty things…I'm excite. I just have to write it.**


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